


Sacrifice

by BradyGirl_12



Category: Public Enemies (2009)
Genre: Angst, Beating, Big Bang Challenge, Challenge Response, Claims Table, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Het, Het and Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much will a man sacrifice for love?  Once Melvin Purvis is captured by his former Bureau of Investigation colleagues, he finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Manhunt

**Author's Note:**

> Claim: For the [12_Stories](http://12_stories.livejournal.com) Challenge [(Mel/Johnny)](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/853656.html)  
> Prompt: T 7; P 4: Betrayal  
> Prompt Count: (5/12)  
> Warnings: (Ch. 4, 5, 6, 7 & 12: Beating victim)  
> Original LJ Dates Of Completion: August 5-September 11, 2011  
> Original LJ Date Of Posting: April 6, 2012  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 20,937  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> Author's Notes: Written for the [2011/2012 History_BigBang](http://community.livejournal.com/history_bigbang).  
> Beta: The _marvelous_ ! :)  
>  All chapters can be found [here.](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/553277.html)  
> The _gorgeous_ artwork is by [Mella68](http://mella68.livejournal.com). Full versions can be found at her journal [here.](http://mella68.livejournal.com/130745.html)  
>  Due to the nature of [2011/2012 History_BigBang](http://community.livejournal.com/history_bigbang), all chapters were posted in one day on [my journal](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com). Since [LJ](http://www.livejournal.com) doesn't allow very long posts, the chapters were divided into three entries and the chapters will read '3' here while really being '17'. Enjoy! :)

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/bradygirl_12/pic/0006z0qp/)

**I**

**MANHUNT**

_"We shall hunt down the rogue agent, Melvin Purvis, and bring him to justice."_

  


  
**J. Edgar Hoover  
March 1, 1934**

Sometimes Doris hated her job.

Oh, she liked it well enough most days. She liked being secretary and den mother to the men of the Dillinger Squad. They treated her with respect, and in this world, that meant something.

Most of the men in the office were handsome, from square-jawed Sam to sweetly-smiling Carter to willowy, graceful Mel. And, of course, rugged, blue-eyed Charles.

She was fine with the prohibition against women agents. She had no desire to spend endless hours on stakeouts in the Chicago cold or heat, or getting shot at by mad dog killers like Baby Face Nelson. Being a secretary was fine by her: usually regular hours and decent pay, and vicarious excitement to keep things interesting. 

Today, though, was one of the days she did not like her job. There had been tension since early morning, when a call had come in from Washington and Sam Cowley had relayed the orders: Doc White was to take Rorer, Clegg, and Reinecke and head out, hot on Dillinger’s trail, except that Doris could have sworn she had heard Mel’s name mentioned. 

And that worried her. The men sent on this mission had made no secret of their contempt for her former boss. Melvin Purvis had disgraced the Bureau by falling in love with John Dillinger and finally going off to be with him.

The official explanation was that he had been Dillinger’s informant and had fled once he had been discovered, but Doris knew the truth. She had been the go-between in the Purvis/Dillinger romance, answering the phone and transferring the calls to Mel. 

She had never seen Mel happier during those months of the madcap romance, and she had learned to recognize Johnny’s handwriting, careful to pass along the letters and packages the gangster had sent.

It was all rather romantic.

Charles was talking to Jerry Campbell and Clarence Hurt, his fellow ex-Texas Rangers. They did not look happy, but then, then rarely did about anything.

She took a bite of her cream-filled doughnut. Mel had preferred lemon-filled, or strawberry. He had a sweet tooth, and had once received a package of lemon drops and dark chocolates from the charming Mr. Dillinger, which he had shared with her and Carter.

She missed little things like that, but knew that Mel was happy. She had seen the way that his eyes had lit up when speaking of his outlaw lover.

_But falling for Public Enemy No. 1 carries its risks, doesn’t it, Mel? Oh, darlin’, be careful._

Sam came out of his office (Mel’s old office), walking over to Charles’ desk. He spoke with the Texans, and then came over to Doris and Carter.

“Any word?” Carter asked.

Sam shook his head. He looked ready to burst with frustration.

“Want some coffee?” asked Doris.

“No, I’m already jumpier than a griddlecake on a skillet.”

Doris chuckled. “Did you get that from Mel? It sounds like Southern down-home wisdom.”

Sam smiled ruefully. “I suppose I did.” He sighed as he lowered his voice. “I sure do miss him.”

“Me, too,” Carter said, suddenly very tired. He leaned heavily on his cane, his right leg shot up by Baby Face Nelson at Little Bohemia.

Doris said, “He’s happy now, but I agree with you.”

Suddenly there was a commotion at the doorway of the squad room, and Doris felt her heart plunge into her stomach as she saw Harold Reinecke shove his bloodied prisoner inside, closely followed by Doc, Rorer, and Clegg.

“Oh, Mel,” she moaned.

  
**II**   


  
**NO MERCY**   


  
_"Traitors should expect the harshest treatment."_   


  


  
**J. Edgar Hoover  
Washington Press Club Speech   
1931 C.E.**

Clegg and Rorer were joking between themselves, Doc aloof but hard-eyed, and Rienecke was positively gleeful, shoving Mel hard and causing him to stumble.  
Carter’s fingers tightened around his cane while Sam approached the men. Rienecke disappeared with Mel down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded.

“We’re bringin’ in a criminal, Sam,” said Doc coolly. 

“Roughed up, I see.” Doc shrugged. “He resisted arrest.”The three Texans were watching the exchange, and Doris could not tell whether they approved of the rough treatment or not.

_Damn, they must be killer poker players._

She studied Charles in particular. He was cool and relaxed as he always was, his light-blue eyes missing nothing. Doris stood and dragged a chair over, Carter gratefully sitting down. He rubbed his bad leg, his face pale.

“That’s still no reason to beat him up like that.” Sam was controlled, but his voice was tight.

“Resisting arrest means you get into a scuffle, Cowley. Punches are thrown.”

Doris wished that she could wipe that cool, almost mocking, expression off Doc’s face.

“I can’t believe that Mel put up that much of a fight.”

“Well, ‘Mel’ is not who you thought he was, now is he?”

Sam scowled. “I’ll take charge of the investigation.”

“Sorry, Sam. I’m going to be in charge.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as Doris felt her heart sink further.

“What are you talking about, Doc?”

“The Director said that’s the way we’re going.”

“Since when?”

“Since I talked to him before we left on this little expedition.”

Sam looked furious. “We’ll see about that,” he said through gritted teeth. He turned on his heel and went into his office. Doris’ phone rang and she picked it up.

_“Miss Rogers, get me Washington, please.”_

“Yes, sir.”

Doris made the connection but highly doubted that anything would change. As she hung up the phone she said to Carter, “Hoover wants to hurt and humiliate Mel as much as possible.” She kept her voice low. She was only certain of Carter’s allegiance to Mel, though even he was conflicted.

“I’d say you were right about that, Miss Doris.”

Startled, Doris looked up to see Charles standing by her desk. Carter looked surprised, too.

_How did he sneak up on us? Damn cowboy!_

Still, she could not help but admire his stealth. The man could be amazing.

“Can you do anything, Charles?” Doris asked.“It’s up to Cowley, darlin’.”

Doris smiled at the endearment. She was definitely going to explore things with this cowboy, but there were more important things to think about right now.

She finished her doughnut, more out of nervousness than hunger. She and Carter stared down the hall, Charles lighting a cigarette and appearing nonchalant, but she could see the tension in his muscles.It was bad all around.

& & & & & &

Doris skipped lunch, her stomach in knots, and as the afternoon waned, she wondered how long that cabal was going to be allowed to question Mel. Sam had not emerged from his office since asking her to put in that call to Washington.

Carter and Charles had gone back to their desk, and Charles received a tip via telephone and left with his Texans to run it down.Doris typed up letters and answered the phone, but she strained to hear what might be going on in the interrogation room. She thought she heard shouting, but it could have been her imagination. The only activity was the agents coming out at various times to drink at the water cooler, usually alone.  
When Harold Reinecke came out, his knuckles were red and puffy, his clothes disheveled.

Mid-afternoon, she got up to use the bathroom and she entered the hall, the ladies’ room down at the end. She paused by the interrogation room door, the muffle of voices the only sound. After a few minutes she went down to the bathroom.

She did her business and as she washed up, stared at her reflection in the mirror. Could she really just go on back to her desk while Mel was suffering?

Doris walked to the interrogation room, sure that she heard a cry of pain. She grabbed the doorknob but it was locked. Rattling the doorknob, she pounded on the door.

The door was opened partway, and Doris silently cursed as she saw Rorer and Reinecke leaning over a chair, Mel probably the occupant. Doc White had been the one to open the door. He was relaxed, his hard eyes glinting at her. “You better get on back to your typewriter, Miss Rogers.”

“I want to see…”

He shut the door in her face.Fuming, Doris marched down the hall and into Sam’s office.

“Doris, what…?”

 _“What_ is going on, Sam? Why are you allowing this interrogation to go on?”

Sam winced. “I’m off the case permanently.”

“What?” She had hoped that Sam had gotten permission to take the case back. 

Sam looked miserable. “Hoover put White in charge.”

“With those others? Especially Reinecke? Sam, they’re been working him over for four-and-a-half hours now!”

“I know.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “Mel made his choice.”

“He made a choice, but does that mean he should be tortured?”“Hoover wants to find out where Dillinger is.”“So they’ll batter him for it?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Hoover expects that information.”

“But, Sam, this isn’t the way to go about it!”

Sam’s brown eyes were troubled. “I know, Doris, but Hoover’s the boss.”

Doris crossed her arms. “You can stop it, Sam.”

The phone rang and Sam snatched it up. “Cowley here. Director Hoover, sir, how may I help you?” Sam frowned. “Yes, sir, but…Director, I don’t approve…yes, sir.” He slammed the phone down. “I’ve been summoned to Washington.”

Doris regarded him worriedly. “Do you think that he’s calling you on the carpet?”

“It could be.” Sam stood. “I’ll take care of Mel before I go.”

Relieved, Doris started to leave the office when Doc White came in. “We put Purvis down in holding.”

“Good. I’ve got to go to Washington. Doc, ease up. Remember that Mel was once one of us.”

“Sure, Sam.”

Sam asked, “Would you book me on a flight to D.C., Miss Rogers?”

“Certainly, Mr. Cowley.”

Relieved, Doris went out to her desk and called Pan Am, arranging for a ticket. When Sam came out of the office she said, “You can pick up the ticket at the Pan Am counter. You’re booked on the 5:15 flight.”

“Thanks, Miss Rogers. Listen, finish that filing and then go home. This place is dead, anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam left the office and Doc went to his desk to begin typing up his report, Hugh Clegg coming back into the office with deli food.

Doris finished the filing and put on her coat. She realized that Mel had been brought in without a coat. She should stop by the holding cells and see if he needed anything.

She put on her hat and picked up her purse, heading downstairs once she left the office. At the entrance to the cells, she spoke to the cop on duty.

“Sorry, Miss, the cells are locked down for the night. No visitors.”

Frustrated, Doris left but was determined to get in early tomorrow to see him.

She headed out into the icy Chicago evening.

  


**III**  


  


**FROST**  


  


_Glittering frost  
On windowpanes,  
Cold and bright,  
But I have you  
To keep me warm  
At night._  


  


  
**Ella Fitzhenry  
"Jack Frost"   
Decca Records   
I1931 C.E.**

Doris was glad to get home. The wait for a streetcar had seemed endless as the cold wind blew off Lake Michigan, chilling her bones. She had welcomed the crush of bodies on the car, warming up until she reached her stop.

She hurried into her house, grateful for the furnace heat. It had been a long day, and she wanted nothing more than to heat up the leftover beef stew she had in the icebox and eat it while listening to the radio.

She put the stew on to simmer on top of the stove and a couple of loaves of garlic bread inside the oven. Hurrying upstairs, she changed into a blue-and-white-checked housedress and took her garter belt and stockings off, washing and draping them over the shower curtain rod to dry. 

Doris found the simple tasks a way to unwind, to try and keep her mind off her former boss stuck in a dirty holding cell for the night. She hoped that he had some heat. Chicago was in the throes of a bitterly cold snap. She grew angry as she remembered the lack of a coat on Mel. He could not only catch cold, he could wind up with pneumonia.

She went down to the kitchen and ladled out a bowl of stew, changing the settings on the stove to simmer and took out the garlic bread. She cut some slices and put everything on a tray and brought it into the living room. Not wanting to wait for tea to brew, she came back into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Coke out of the icebox, opening it with a church key.

In the living room she turned on the radio and while it warmed up, sat in her favorite chair while she sipped her Coke, then took a spoonful of stew. Chunks of beef, carrots, celery, and onions were the savory ingredients. Maybe she would take some to Mel tomorrow. She doubted that he was getting decent food.

 _Fibber McGee And Molly_ was the program that came on, and she was glad of a chance to laugh for a half hour as she ate her warm garlic bread and hot stew, frost glittering on the parlor windowpanes.

At the end of the program was a news update, chronicling national events, then the announcer said, _“And the search continues for John Dillinger. He was last sighted in Muncie, Indiana, and is rumored to be holding missing G-Man Melvin Purvis hostage.”_

Doris ate the last slice of garlic bread. The official story was that Mel was missing, since it would not have sounded quite so savory to say that he had run off with John Dillinger.  
Even now with her friend captured, Hoover was busy trying to come up with a suitable cover story.

_Probably claim that Mel was blackmailed or took bribes from Johnny. Anything but Mel running off in a homosexual love affair._

As the next program came on, Doris smiled as she remembered a day not so long ago…

& & & & & &

_  
**“Hi, Doris, is Mel in?”**  
_

_Doris smiled as she recognized the cheerful voice on the line. “He sure is.”_

_**“Patch me though, willya, darlin’?”** _

_“Comin’ right up.”_

_**“You’re a peach, Doris, like my South Carolina peach.”** _

_Doris laughed. “I can see why he fell for you. You’re quite the charmer.”_

_Laughter sounded over the line, rich and warm. **“You flatter me, lovely lady.”**_

_“Anyone who makes Mel smile as much as you do deserves flattery.”_

_Sounding pleased, he said, **“Thanks, darlin’.”**_

_“You’re welcome.”_

_Doris transferred the call. Still smiling, she went about her work, then gathered up some papers and went to Mel’s office. He was still on the phone but finishing up his conversation when she came in._

_“I love you, too. See you.” He hung up with a sappy smile on his face._

_“Sounds like all is well.”_

_Mel’s smile grew brighter. He really looked incredibly beautiful when he smiled. “To be sure.”_

_“Good. Nice to hear someone’s got a romance going.”_

_“Oh, now, I have seen Charles spending time over at your desk quite a bit.”_

_Doris smirked. “Sign these papers, Agent Purvis.”_

& & & & & &

Laughter spilled out of the radio as Bob Hope cracked a joke, riffing with good friend Bing Crosby.

Doris suddenly felt tired. Mel’s future was not looking bright. And how had he been captured while John Dillinger and his men had not?

_“This just in: the Dillinger Gang struck again, robbing the First National Bank in Cicero this afternoon. There were no injuries or fatalities and the gang got away with $36,000.”_

Doris set down her bottle of Coke. So they had been out on a job, probably ‘casing the joint’, as the slang went. Mel would have been left at the safehouse, and the tip had led the Bureau there.

So what now, Mel? Do Johnny and his men take off for parts unknown, leaving you holding the bag? You’d probably be happy to sacrifice yourself for your Johnny, wouldn’t you? That strong sense of chivalry and honor runs deep in you, doesn’t it?

Doris cleaned up and went to bed, exhausted from worry and wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  


**IV**  


  


**SUFFERING**  


  


_"When a man loves hard, he will sacrifice anything."_  


  


>   
**Ezra Block  
Poet   
1922 C.E.**

The next morning, Doris got up early and ate a quick breakfast of Cream of Wheat oatmeal and buttermilk, putting last night’s stew in a thermos and venturing out in the cold to catch the streetcar downtown.

Today was even more bitter cold than yesterday. Doris shifted from foot-to-foot while she waited for the streetcar, trying to stay patient, but she was anxious to see Mel.

Once she arrived at the Bankers Building, she hurried down to the holding cells.

“Sorry, Miss, there ain’t no prisoners in there,” said the bored-looking cop.

_Damn! They must have taken him upstairs early._

She thanked the cop and hurried up to the office. Entering the empty squadroom, she noted that the door of the interrogation room was closed. Sighing in frustration, she walked over to her desk and hung up her hat and coat on the nearby coatrack, unwinding her scarf. She set the thermos down on her desk.

She felt uneasy. Something was not quite right here. She stood for a minute, tapping her foot, trying to decide what to do.

Her gaze fell on the open door to Mel’s office. Technically, Sam’s office, but it would be always Mel’s to her.

She snatched the thermos up from her desk and marched toward the interrogation room. Just let those yahoos try and keep her from Mel! He needed something to eat. It had been too early for breakfast service down in holding.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she traversed the corridor. The Bankers Building was a sturdy, solid structure, built in the 19th century, and the dark walls and high windows seemed to fit the serious business of High Finance and Law Enforcement, to name just a few professions located in the building. The walls were thick, not cheap material at all, so the interrogation room was cut off from the rest of the office.

Doris was afraid of what she might find, but she would not be denied this morning.

She stopped in front of the door and rapped sharply. “Open up, Doc! I have breakfast for Agent Purvis!” She felt a certain satisfaction in using Mel’s old title. She knocked again. “Come on, Doc!” She thought she heard a noise. She rattled the doorknob, but it was locked.

_Fuck this!_

She pulled out a hairpin and meticulously picked the lock after putting down the thermos. She heard a _click!,_ and with a grim smile, picked up the thermos and pushed the door open.

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust. The light was off and the shades pulled down. Puzzled, she asked, “Doc?”

A croaking noise answered her as she wrinkled her nose. Did she smell urine? What the hell…?

In that moment, she saw a huddled figure in a chair several feet away. Horror swept over her as she fumbled for the light switch.

As the lights came on, the battered man in the chair groaned and lifted a shaking hand to shield his eyes.

“Mel!”

Doris put the thermos on the table and rushed toward her friend. She wanted to moan as she saw his swollen right eye, bruised cheeks and jaw, cut lip, and his torn and rumpled clothing. His raven hair hung over his eyes, his usual neat combed locks in disarray.

“Mel, have you been here all night?”

His left eye blinked open, bleary and clouded with pain and exhaustion. “Doris?”

She pushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mel.”

He smiled slightly, wincing as he stretched his lip. “Not your fault, darlin’.” His movements were sluggish as he feebly moved his right arm, the clink of a handcuff chain sounding loud in the empty room.

Doris gasped as she saw the redness around his cuffed wrist. His right ankle was manacled to the chair leg, too.

“Oh, Mel.” Doris carefully touched his cheek.

“It’ll be all right…Doris.”

“No, it’s not! This is brutality!”

“Darlin’…”

“Is this Hoover’s ‘professional young men of the best sort’? This is thuggery!”

Mel’s head lolled back. “Jayee…wants the information about…Johnny.”  
“And you won’t give it to them.”

Mel looked at her with his one good eye. “I can’t give Johnny up.”

For a moment, Doris wondered if John Dillinger was worth all this suffering, but love made people strong.

And also make them sacrifice.

Doris knew Melvin Purvis pretty well. His sense of honor and chivalry would never allow him to give his lover up. Once he loved, it was forever.

_Damnit! He’ll allow himself to be pummeled to a pulp before he gives up his Johnny._

“What do they want to know?”

“Johnny’s contacts, his safe houses, where he…is right now.” Mel’s breaths were short, as if it was difficult for him to breathe. “But…I don’t know his contacts…or all of his safe houses, either. Better…that way…until we were…away.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Not…exactly, but I have…an idea.”

Doris wished that he had no idea at all, though his interrogators would never believe him, anyway. 

“Do your ribs hurt?” Mel’s breathing was growing more ragged.

“A little.” He grimaced. 

That meant a lot. She noticed his parched lips.

”I’ll get you some water.” 

“I…uh…”

“Oh, pee on the floor if you have to. If they won’t allow you to use the bathroom, screw ‘em.”

“Doris!” Mel sounded faintly scandalized.

“Well, harsh times call for harsh language.” Doris straightened and patted his arm. “I’ll be right back.” She hurried out to the squadroom and filled a Dixie cup with water from the cooler.

Once back in the interrogation room, she offered the cup to Mel, who drank greedily.

“Thank you,” he rasped.

Doris was about to offer him the beef stew when she heard voices in the squadroom. She kissed him on the cheek. “Stay strong,” she whispered, then left, grabbing the thermos.

Doris closed the door behind her, quickly locking it, and went swiftly to the ladies’ room at the end of the hall.

She heard the agents laughing and talking as they came down the corridor, and Doc’s voice boomed with false joviality, “Well, now, it’s a fine, bright morning, Mr. Purvis. I hope you slept well.” He shut the door behind him, cutting off Mel’s reply, if he had any.

Doris left the bathroom and quickly went to her desk. She set the thermos down on the blotter, her free hand clenching into a fist.

& & & & & &

When the other agents began trickling in, Doris beckoned Charles and Carter over.

“They kept Mel in the interrogation room all night, chained to a chair! They haven’t given him any food or water or let him go to the bathroom. They’re beating him to a pulp!”

Both agents looked at each other, Carter uneasy and Charles looking put out.

“Well, damn,” said the Texan.

“Can’t anything be done?” Doris pleaded.

“White’s in charge,” Charles said, lighting a cigarette. 

“So we just stand by and let this go on?”

Carter’s knuckles whitened on his cane. “Mel made his choice.”

Doris looked at him incredulously. Carter could not look at her and hobbled to his desk.

“So you’re going to say the same?” Doris demanded of Charles.

“Doris, honey, the orders come from Hoover himself.”

“Since when do you care about Hoover?” Doris hissed. There were too many ears around here.

“Listen, keep a cool head. We’ll figure something out.”

Slightly mollified, Doris began her work, though she continued to glance down the corridor.

It was quiet in the squadroom except for the clacking of her typewriter keys, and those of Carter’s. Conversation was low, and agents wrote reports and answered their phones. One man stood in front of the bulletin board, studying the collected photographic evidence.

Discouraged, Doris tried to concentrate on work, yet all she could think of was the man she considered a friend suffering in that interrogation room down the hall.

  


**V**  


  


**DEATH BY CHOCOLATE**  


  


_"The thrill of danger keeps us alive."_  


  


  
**Sir Malcolm Atterby  
"A Soldier’s Memoirs   
Of The Great War"   
1923 C.E.**

“You fuckin’, traitorous queer!”

Mel thought that he should be immune to such insults by now. After all, he had heard them for hours.

He grunted as Reinecke punched him in already-tender ribs, pain flaring up as he tried to breathe. Maybe one was broken.

He could smell Reinecke’s sweat, the fat man leaning in close to him. “You are pathetic, Purvis. Do you take it up the ass? Just like you to play the woman.”

For a moment, Mel’s mind drifted to pleasant images of him and Johnny together, but he reluctantly returned to his painful reality. 

Rienecke was furious at his continued silence and slapped him across the face. “Where is Dillinger?” When Mel still did not answer, he yelled the question again.

“C’mon, Mel, give it up,” Doc said in a reasonable tone of voice. “He can’t elude us forever.” 

“He…has…so far,” Mel said, pride creeping into his voice.

“Because of turncoats like _you!”_ Reinecke snarled, backhanding him this time.

Stars whirled in front of Mel’s eyes. Shouldn’t he be numbed to this by now? He had bruises on top of bruises, and his ribs were on fire. His limbs were stiff from sitting in this wretched chair for…how many hours now?

“You’re a damned traitor!” Reinecke shrilled. He drew his fist back.

“Here, now, Harold,” drawled Doc, grabbing the other agent’s arm. “You keep whalin’ on this boy, and he won’t be able to tell us nothin’.”

“But he’s a fuckin’ traitor!”

“All for love,” Doc said lightly, but Mel heard the mocking tone. “Isn’t that right, Mel?”

“I’m not…going to say…anythin’, Doc.” Mel’s voice was strained as he tried to catch his breath, the pain in his side sharp.

“Hear that, Will? Hugh?” Our boy here is clammin’ up.”

Rorer shook his head. “That’s too bad, Doc.” He leaned over Mel, his brown eyes piercing. “We could put you in such a deep hole in Cook County that you’ll never see the light of day.”

“Or how about Michigan City?” asked Doc, taking out his silver cigarette case and picking out a Lucky Strike. He lit it and blew a ring of smoke in Mel’s face.

Mel coughed weakly. He wondered if cigarette burns was the next tactic.

Clegg shook his head. “Melvin, how foolish are you?” He smirked. “Dillinger’s been playing you like a bass fiddle. He got what he wanted from you, all the inside dope he could ever use, and then dropped you like a hot potato. Now he’s off and running, leaving you holding the bag.”

“Hugh,” Mel said softly, “Mr. Dillinger is a smart man, and hopefully he is far away from here.”

He received another hard slap by Rienecke for his sentiment, but was satisfied.

_Johnny, **please** get yourself far, far away from Chicago. My former colleagues are out for blood._

“You are one stubborn man, Melvin. I’ve always admired that about you. You were always like a bloodhound on the scent.” Doc blew out another ring of smoke. “Once you dig in your heels, you’re all in. I guess we’ll just have to work really hard to break you.”

Mel sighed mentally. He supposed he should not have expected less.

Go at it, Doc. You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?

He tensed as Doc motioned Rienecke over.

& & & & & &

“You know this doesn’t set well with me?”

Doris looked up at Charles and sighed. “I know.”

“We can’t just take a page from Mel’s book and defy our bosses,” Carter said over at the next desk, but he clearly looked unhappy. 

Doris tugged on a strand of her hair. “This is just so insane. How did they capture Mel, anyway?”

“They caught him at a house on the North Side. He was the only one there. The rest of the gang was off preparing to rob that bank,” Charles said.

“I wonder where Johnny is right now?”

“If he’s got the sense God gave a jackrabbit, he’d live up to his name and skedaddle out of town.”

“And just leave Mel to the wolves?” 

“Do you really think there a romance goin’ on here, darlin’?”

“I do.” Doris’ tone was firm. “I’ve seen it second-hand.”

“Second-hand?”

“Yes, I’ve seen it first-hand from Mel’s point of view, actually. I’ve never met Johnny, just talked to him over the phone. He’s a real gentleman.”

Charles smiled. “You’re a romantic, honey.”

“I hope so. _Someone_ has to be around here.”

Even Carter had to smile at that.

“I wish Sam was here. I almost had him convinced that he should put a stop to all this.”

“And you’d be the one to do it, darlin’.” Charles looked proud, which in turn made Doris feel the same way. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

Doris hoped so. She could not bear thinking of Mel trapped in that room, beaten on by the likes of Harold Reinecke.

How had it all gone so bad? She remembered the thrill of illicit goings-on not that long ago, with her right in the middle of things…

& & & & & &

_“Doris, would you be so kind as to mail this package for me?”_

_Mel held out a brown-wrapped square package as Doris pulled on her coat. She was meeting a friend for lunch._

_“Sure, Mr. Purvis.”_

_“It will probably take you awhile at the post office, so you may go over your lunch hour. After all, you are doing me a favor. I don’t want to cut into your time.”_

_“Thanks, sir. I’ll mail it on the way back.”_

_“Very good.”_

_She glanced down at the address, recognizing the alias as one that Mel used to send his outlaw lover letters._

_“What is it? A dozen packages of gum?”_

_He laughed as he glanced around the squadroom. Only a few agents were still at their desks. “No, something a little sweeter than gum.”_

_“Were you shopping at **The Chocolate Shoppe?”**_

_“Best place on North Halstead.”_

_Doris thought of the little shop and grinned. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Melvin.”_

_He smirked. “I expect so.”_

_Doris picked up the package. “Don’t you worry. Mr. O’Reilly will get his goodies.”_

_“Thank you, Miss Rogers.” Mel handed her the money for the postal fee._

& & & & & &

Doris had sat at lunch with the tantalizing package by her feet. It had been a lunch that had proven to be a source of endless amusement…

& & & & & &

 _“Hey, Doris. How’s the girl?”_

_“Hi, Mabel. Oh, just fine, thanks.” Doris sat at the window table and carefully placed the package by her chair._

_**The Yellow Daffodil** was busy with the lunch crowd, and Doris was glad that she had suggested this restaurant. It was only a short walk from the office, and it might take awhile to get served._

_Mabel Abernathy was a pretty, slender brunette, her hazel eyes bright as she greeted Doris. She was wearing a dark-green dress that matched her hat, her coat hanging on the rack by the table._

_“Glad you could make it. I thought you might be out on the manhunt for Dillinger and Nelson.”_

_“Ha! Not likely for a lowly secretary.”_

_“Oh, you’ve worked overtime when things get hot over there.”_

_“ I know, but things are relatively quiet right now.”_

_“Dillinger and Nelson cooling their heels?”_

_“They’re nothing alike.”_

_“Huh?” Mabel sipped her icewater._

_“Dillinger and Nelson. They’re nothing alike. The Bureau has worked up psychological profiles of them, and Dillinger is a gentleman bandit while Nelson takes delight in killing.”_

_“Oh, ho, do I detect admiration for Public Enemy No. 1?”_

_Before Doris could answer, their waitress came over. Doris ordered the chicken salad sandwich and a side order of potato salad._

_“I’ll bring you coffee, if you like,” said the waitress._

_“That’d be swell.”_

_After the waitress left, Doris smiled. “I admire a man who knows his business.”_

_“Don’t let your boss hear you say that.”_

_Doris’ foot brushed against the package. “Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mind if I hold a sneaking admiration for Dillinger.”_

_“Must be a liberal man, your Mr. Purvis.”_

_You don’t know the half of it._

_“He’s a doll."_

_Mabel grinned. “He sure is pretty.”_

_“He’s not known as the Clark Gable of the Bureau for nothing.”_

_“Has he got a girlfriend?”_

_Doris almost choked on her water. “Not that I’m aware of.”_

_“It must bother him that Dillinger always gets away.”_

_“It sure puts him under pressure.”_

_They chatted a little more, then the waitress brought their orders and Doris realized that she was ravenous. She dug her fork into her potato salad._

_“Well, I think it would be exciting to work on the Dillinger Squad.”_

_“It can be.” Doris picked up one half of her sandwich. “It’s also dangerous work for the men.”_

_“I suppose you’re right. All those shoot-outs!”_

_“Remember, the Kansas City Massacre was pretty bad.”_

_Mabel nodded thoughtfully. “No leads on that?”_

_“Some, but nothing solid.”_

_“That’s too bad.” Mabel grinned. “What’s in the package?”_

_“Hmm?” Doris was contemplating putting celery bits in her homemade chicken salad next time just like this place served._

_“Spill, girl.”_

_Doris almost looked down guiltily at the package. “Oh, just some business.”_

_“Business?” Mabel arched an eyebrow._

_“Yeah, you know, important papers and things.” Doris felt the thrill of nervousness. It was just a taste of what Mel must feel when he was trying to tapdance around as he protected Johnny._

_“Sending love notes to Hoover?”_

_“Who?”_

_“Clark Gable Purvis.”_

_Doris knew that Mel had once admired Hoover greatly and still respected his original vision of what the Bureau could be. It was his current vision that bothered the Southerner._

_“Aww, Mabel, honey, why would Mr. Purvis make kissy-face with his boss?”_

_“Are you kidding? Hoover’s practically got your boy on a leash.”_

_Doris took a sip of her coffee. “Really?”_

_**Oh, Mabel, you really don’t know the half of it.** _

_She shivered a little at the thought of Mel on a leash, but she knew who would be at the other end._

_Mabel sniffed. “I hear things.”_

_Doris smiled. “I bet.”_

_“Go ahead, mock me if you must.”_

_“Darling, the only ‘mock’ I know is mock turtle soup.”_

& & & & & &

After lunch, Doris stood in line at the Post Office, seeing the Wanted posters of Baby Face Nelson, Machine Gun Kelly, and John Dillinger. Dillinger’s smirk was pure Johnny.

She felt a little nervous standing in line with all these upright citizens, sending her boss’ love gift to a gangster, but of course no one had a clue. Under Johnny’s smirking eyes, she went up to the counter.

& & & & & &

That little foray had given her a taste of danger, and now there was danger all around her.

The agents from the interrogation room went to lunch, and Carter frowned at their joviality. As soon as the door closed behind them, he growled, “I’m going in.”

  
**VI**  


  
**FRIENDSHIP**  


  
_Friends are forever,  
No matter what._  


  


  
**Alan Cummings  
"Friendship And Other Poems"   
1930 C.E.**

_“Oh, darlin’, you are **so** pretty.”_

_“Pretty? Johnny, sweetheart, I have a black eye, split lip, bruised face, and bleeding cuts, scratches, and wrist.”_

_“Now, Sunshine, you’re too analytical.”_

_Mel blinked, trying to see his lover. “I love you,” he said softly._

_A warm hand cupped his face. “I know. I love you, too, darlin’.”_

& & & & & &

Mel drifted on his sea of pain, wishing that he could be with Johnny. It hurt him to think that he would never see his beautiful lover again. He would have a lifetime to dream of his Johnny, if he survived prison. The future was very bleak, indeed.

Was it worth a lifetime of disgrace, years, possibly a life sentence in prison for mere months of stolen moments?

He sighed, grimacing as the pain in his side flared up. He tried to breathe more shallowly, attempting relief. 

He wondered where Johnny was now. Indiana? Wisconsin? Or all the way to Cuba or Mexico?

_It’s all I can do for you, love, give you your freedom._

It was the most precious gift of all and he was happy to give it.

_Remember me fondly, Johnny._

A tear slid down his cheek.

The door opened and he found himself not caring anymore. Let Reinecke and Doc and all the rest beat on him for another day. He would never talk.

“Oh, Mel.”

Mel opened his one good eye at the sound of the saddened voice. “Carter,” he breathed. 

Carter limped toward him, leaning heavily on his cane. His brown eyes matched his voice, and Mel felt guilty at the sight of the cane. Carter gently brushed the hair out of Mel’s eyes.

“Damn, what have they done to you?”

Mel groped for Carter’s arm, grabbing it. “I’m so sorry about Little Bohemia.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I made all the…wrong decisions.”

Carter pursed his lips. “It was a crazy night.”

Mel looked at his old friend. “How are you doin’, Carter?”

Carter pulled a chair over and sat down. “Oh, you know how it is. One day is good, the next can be not so good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The more important question is, how are _you?”_

“I’ll survive.”

& & & & & &

Carter looked at the bruised and battered face of his former boss. It was sad, this turn of events, but of course Mel had made his choice. Still, did he deserve this kind of treatment? Traitor or not, he should not be treated this way.

“Was it worth it, Mel?” he asked sadly.

A small smile stretched the Southerner’s face, painful as it was.

Carter wondered at the depth of the love that Mel felt for the debonair gangster. Mel had literally given up everything for John Dillinger: his career, family name, trust fund…freedom. And yet he seemed happy.

_Does Dillinger feel the same way? He’s left you to face your fate alone._

To be fair, what could Dillinger do? He was an escape artist, Crown Point the shining jewel, but it would take _chutzpah_ to waltz in here and take Mel. Was even John Dillinger that bold? 

“I’ll see if I can get you some water. Hold on.”

Carter limped out, heading for the water cooler in the squadroom. He filled up a Dixie cup as Doris came over.

“How is he?” she asked in a low voice.

“Probably more battered than when you saw him.” His voice was equally low. The other agents were listening.

“Damn.” She was at a loss as to what to do next. Even if she and Carter uncuffed Mel and led him out of the interrogation room, they would be stopped by the other agents. Despite their uneasiness with the treatment their former boss was suffering, they were also appalled at his betrayal and the way he had disgraced the Bureau. It was one thing to be on the take, but to fall into the bed of Public Enemy No. 1…that was heinous and disgusting. Homosexuals were regarded as sick deviants, though admittedly the Pansy Craze had made things a little easier on inverts. 

Carter thought, _Hoover’s keeping the homosexual angle out of the press, pretending that Mel had taken a bribe, and has even floated the idea that he had been kidnapped and framed. If Mel plays ball, he may avoid prison and regain his good name, though he could never work with these men again._

He headed back down the hall. These men know the truth. They would never openly discuss it, fearing Hoover’s wrath, but it would eventually leak out. Maybe years from now, but secrets this explosive never stayed buried forever.

Once back inside the interrogation room, he helped Mel drink. He noticed the reddened skin around the handcuff. He had to be irritated around the ankle since there was a tight cuff down there, too. It broke his heart to see the rumpled clothing and disheveled hair. Mel had always taken such pride in his appearance. 

Mel gulped down the water, wincing as it stung his split lip. He was shaking slightly. 

“When did you eat last?” Carter asked.

“Yesterday’s…breakfast.”

“I’ll get you something.”

The door opened and White’s Texas drawl said, “Well, now, ain’t this cute.”

Both men looked up. “You got something to say, Doc?”

“Better not get too close to Melvin, Carter. You might catch somethin’.”

Carter frowned. “Do you feel good, battering a defenseless man?”

“He’s getting what he deserves.” Doc shrugged as he lit a fresh cigarette.

Mel glared at Doc with his good eye. “Always knew you were an insufferable prig, Doc.”

“Prig, huh? Pretty stuck-up word.”

Mel said nothing more. Carter stood. “I’m getting this man a sandwich.”

“No, you’re not.” Doc blew out a ring of smoke. “You’re gonna leave and let me continue to interrogate the prisoner.”

“You mean beat him up some more.”

Doc shrugged. “We need to know where Dillinger is.”

“Away the hell from here,” Mel said defiantly.

Doc grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “You’re a regular spitfire, Little Mel.” At White’s use of one of his nicknames, Mel frowned.

“I’ll give you this, Purvis.” Doc held his cigarette out, the ember glowing. “You’ve got more balls than I thought a priss like you would have.” He chuckled. The sound was not pleasant. “Bet Dillinger finds that interestin’, huh?”

“I’ll get you something to eat, Mel,” Carter said over his shoulder.

“I toldja, Baum. No fuckin’ sandwich.”

“Listen, you…”

“Carter.” The ragged voice attracted Carter’s attention. He turned to Mel, who said softly, “You had better go. Thank you for your kindness.”

Carter’s throat tightened. Mel was still his friend. He grasped his shoulder, squeezing gently as they communicated silently. Reluctantly, Carter left.

Out in the squadroom, he met Doris’ eyes.

_We’re getting him out._

Somehow, someway, Carter would see to it.


	2. Culture 'N' Gusto

**VII**

**CULTURE ‘N’ GUSTO**

_When daydreams drift,  
Life is bearable._

  


  
**Alan Cummings  
"On Wisps Of Dreams"   
1919 C.E.**

The next several hours passed in a haze for Mel. He ignored the same questions that were shouted at him, pain flaring in his side as Reinecke hit him again and again. Dizzy and weak from hunger, he felt himself slipping away. A slap to the head brought him back to a harsh reality.

Everything was running together, his memories mixing with the present. He was numb to the torture, the pain becoming him, miraculously sliding away as strong hands cupped his face.

& & & & & & &

_“Johnny,” he breathed._

_“That’s right, darlin’.” Mel opened his good eye. “Aww, Sunshine. I love you.”_

_“I love you, too.”_

_They were lying in bed, Mel not questioning the sudden shift in venue. They were in the safehouse, and Johnny caressed his cheek._

_”You are beautiful.”_

_Mel blushed. “You flatter me, suh.”_

_”Oh, but it’s true, darlin’.” Johnny nuzzled his cheek. “You happy, Sunshine?”_

_“Very much so.” Mel grasped his lover’s hand and kissed the palm._

_Johnny’s amber eyes clouded. “You gave up a lot for me, sugar.”_

_“I knew what I was doing.”_

_“Still, I…”_

_Mel put a finger to Johnny’s lips. “Hush, darlin’. No frettin’. I made my choice and I’ve never been happier.”_

_Johnny relaxed. “Still, Sunshine, if anything was to happen to me…”_

_“Hush.”_

_Johnny shook his head. “We have to talk about it. You’re cut off from your family’s money and while Red and Homer might be willin’ to give you a cut of future robberies, no one else would. And you couldn’t get a job with that famous face of yours.”_

_“Johnny…”_

_“Just let me speak my piece, sweetheart.” Johnny caressed his face again. “There’s an account up in Canada with both our names, well, aliases.” He grinned. “Plenty of money to keep you in the style to which you’re accustomed.”_

_Tears prickled Mel’s eyes. “You’re too good to me, darlin’.”_

_“Only what you deserve.”_

& & & & & &

Mel cried out as another blow jarred his aching ribs. If they were broken, they would probably puncture a lung soon.

_Maybe it’s for the best. I don’t have much of a future, unless you count Leavenworth._

_“Tell me where Dillinger is!”_

Mel winced as Reinecke practically screamed in his ear. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s his safe houses?” Doc asked.

“I don’t know. I only know the one you found me in.”

“What are his plans for leaving the country?” Rorer demanded. “Mexico? Europe? Canada?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is Dillinger?”

“I don’t know." He moaned as Reinecke cracked him across the face, his cheek swelling.

“You scum,” Rorer said coldly. “You’re a cocksucking traitor, you fuckin’ bastard. How can you justify what you’ve done? You were our leader and you threw it all away for a piece of ass, you fuckin’ queer!”

Mel gasped as his leg was viciously kicked. He would be a pulp before they were finished.

“How can you stand yourself, Purvis?”

Mel said nothing. He felt guilty about his betrayal, but he was not about to elaborate on his reasons to Rorer or anyone else. They would only scoff at and mock him for his love, because homosexual love was not ‘real’, according to society.

“You’re a disgrace! You’ve disgraced all of us! You simpering nancy-boy.”

Mel looked up and glared at Rorer, who sneered. Clegg and Reinecke watched avidly while Doc was dispassionate, the ever-present cigarette in his hand.

“We’re goin’ out to dinner. Pity you can’t join us,” Doc chuckled.

The four agents filed out of the room, leaving Mel behind.

His head lolled back. He let his thought drift. He suspected that his past would be far brighter than his future, and daydreaming was going to be his favorite pastime.

& & & & & &

 _“You sure class the place up, Sunshine.”_

_“I do?” Mel asked in amusement as he and Johnny lay in bed on a lazy Sunday morning._

_“Yeah. All your poetry and literature that you can quote just raises everyone’s cultural I.Q.”_

_“Goodness, aren’t you savvy.”_

_Johnny smiled. “You know it, honey. I love me a man who’s got culture.”_

_“You’re no country bumpkin, sweetheart. You told me that you read a lot while you were in prison.”_

_“Got my high school equivalency back then, too,” Johnny said proudly._

_“That shows drive and ambition.” Mel’s smile was just as proud._

_“Aren’t you the flatterer?”_

_“But true.” Mel winked as Johnny laughed. He leaned over and kissed his lover, whose arms slid around him and drew him close, their heat rising._

& & & & & &

Mel’s stomach growled. He was feeling lightheaded from lack of food.

A little smile tugged at his torn lips. Johnny had always appreciated his appetite…

& & & & & &

 _“Mmm, I **do** love a man who loves good food.”_

_Johnny’s amused tone did not faze Mel at all. They were sitting in a little restaurant out in the country, Johnny highly recommending this place._

_“Can I help it if I love friend chicken, suh?” Mel bit into the crispy chicken leg as Johnny smirked._

_“You enjoy life with gusto, sir.”_

_“Do I?” Mel set down the chicken leg. “Do I really?”_

_“Sure.” Johnny cocked his head. “Why so uncertain, honey?”_

_Mel picked up his fork and poked at his mashed potatoes. “No one has ever said that to me. They generally think I’m pretty repressed.”_

_“That’s ‘cuz they don’t know you.” At Mel’s quizzical look, Johnny explained, “All that control means there’s some powerful passion underneath.” He grinned as Mel blushed. “You’re sure special, Sunshine.”_

_“Oh?” Mel took a bite of the buttery potatoes. They were quite good._

_“Yeah.” Mel looked up to see Johnny’s eyes. Affection gleamed in their amber depths. “You’re not hardened like other men I know, guys damaged by prison and hard childhoods.”_

_Mel laid down his fork. His eyes were bright with emotion._

_“I know you’re tough, darlin’. Someday if you come away with me, you’ll have to rely on that toughness to survive, but I like a man who is just as inclined to discuss books as he is to play poker or swill beer.”_

_Mel took a sip of beer with a small smile. “You are more cultured than you know, Johnny.”_

_Johnny’s smile reflected the sunny restaurant décor with its blondwood tables and red-checked gingham curtains and tablecloths._

_“You’re a doll, Sunshine.” Johnny scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. “And you should try the corn. Indiana-grown all the way.”_

_“I thought I’d already had a taste of Indiana corn.” Mel kept his eyes low as he scooped up some corn._

_“And fine Indiana corn it is, too,” Johnny said confidently._

_Mel chuckled as he sampled the golden corn._

& & & & & &

Mel was beyond tired. The gnawing pit of hunger in his stomach reminded him of nearly thirty-six hours without a meal. Pain throbbed in his eye, cheeks, and ribs. His leg ached where Rorer had kicked it.

He trembled as he thought of his possible treatment in prison. A cop, especially Hoover’s prize G-Man, could not expect pity in jail, though maybe going in with Johnny the way he had would net him a few points, though maybe he would lose them due to his sexual relationship with the gangster.

He grunted as he tried to get comfortable in the hard wooden chair, an impossible task.

He knew that rape was endemic in prison. Society was not aware of it, but cops and criminals knew what went on behind grim, gray walls. Unless they put him in permanent solitary confinement, he could expect frequent assaults.

Maybe he could just ‘check out’, dissociate himself from reality, live in a dream world if he tried hard enough. He would do well to practice now.

_If I see a chance to escape, I’ll surely take it, Johnny, but I don’t have your gift for getting away._

The door opened again, and Mel said, “What are you going to do now? Tip my chair over while you kick me in the ribs?” He looked up, stifling a gasp.

& & & & & &

Carter brought over a report to Doris, ostensibly to go over any typing errors he might have made, but actually to whisper to her, “We’ve got to get Mel out of here before they kill him.” He pointed to a word. “You in?”

“You bet.” The door to the squadroom opened and Doris groaned. “We might be too late.”

The thunderous face of J. Edgar Hoover glared at everyone. With his bullhorn voice he snapped out in his staccato delivery, “Where is the traitor Melvin Purvis?”

Sam was behind him, along with other agents from the Washington office. Hoover usually traveled with an entourage. Clyde Tolson was noticeably missing.

Sam directed him down the hall just as Doc and his men were heading out for dinner.

“White, what have you got for me?”

Slightly flustered, Doc said, “Not much, Director. He’s a stubborn one.”

“I’ll break that stubbornness.”

Doris winced as Carter sat down heavily in a nearby chair. The other agents buzzed about this latest development.

Doris’ phone rang. Sick at heart, she said, “Miss Rogers, Bureau of Investigation.”

_“Hello, Doris, darlin’. How's my Sunshine?”_

  
**VIII**  


  
**"APPLE OF MY EYE"**  


  
_Take your time  
While you can.  
You never know  
When it’ll be  
Your last._  


  


  
**William Akers  
"Precious"   
1919 C.E.**

  
**Thirty-Six Hours Earlier**  


Johnny watched as Mel slipped on his dark-blue slacks over his Hanes boxers, sliding the suspenders up after he put his white silk shirt on. He took the comb off the dresser and ran it through his wet raven hair.

Johnny lazed in bed. “Maybe I shoulda joined you in the shower, Sunshine.”

“And what would your men think if you were late to breakfast?”

“That I was gettin’ lucky.”

Mel smirked. “Probably so, but since it is my turn to cook, I doubt that they would be too thrilled.”

Johnny slid out of bed, his naked body lithe and inviting. Mel stopped combing his hair, watching his lover approach in the dresser mirror. Johnny wrapped his arms around Mel, nuzzling his neck.

“I hate to be away from you, Sunshine.”

“Come home tonight then.”

Johnny sighed regretfully. “I can’t. It’s already worked out that we stay over at Cernocky’s. I’ve got business to conduct after we case the First National Bank.”

“Please be careful.”

“Always, especially when I’ve got such a handsome fella to come home to.”

“Always.”

Johnny grinned and backed away. “Ill jump in the shower as fast as a jackrabbit and be right out. Better use the Bisquick this mornin’.”

“All right.”

Johnny quickly showered and dressed, choosing a dark-blue suit and crisp white shirt. He put on a vest and buttoned it, heading out to the kitchen.

Most of the gang was already there, Homer setting the table as Mel poured out the pancake batter. If blueberries were in season he would have added some into the mix.

Red poured glasses of orange juice while Charles wandered in, yawning as he pulled on his suit jacket.

“Good mornin’, all,” Johnny said cheerfully.

“Good morning, John. Sleep well?” asked Red with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” Johnny’s smirk brought a snicker from Homer and an eyeroll from Charles.

“Where’s Sleeping Beauty?” Johnny asked. “Is Pete still in bed?”

“Damned if I know,” grumped Charles.

While the pancakes cooked, Mel sliced up an apple and arranged the slices on a small condiment dish. He placed it by Johnny’s plate with a smile, Johnny answering him with a smile of his own. He took his fork and speared a slice. 

“Well, la-de-da,” said Pete as he came into the kitchen. “Are ya gonna drink your tea with your pinky extended, Lord Fauntleroy?” Pete rolled up his sleeves. “You can eat an apple with your fingers, y’know.”

“Sure, Pete, but a fork isn’t the end of the world.”

“Puttin’ on airs.” Pete glanced at Mel, who was stirring the batter.

“Sit down and shut up, Pete,” Johnny said amiably. He pulled out his chair and sat down.

“Are we going to meet…” Pete glanced at Mel against as he sat down “…at the usual spot?”

“Yes, at Cernocky’s.” Pete rolled his eyes again but drank his juice. Coffee percolated on the counter in the shiny silver pot but was not quite ready yet. “We’ll case the bank and meet with Alvin. He’s got a big score set up. Once we rake it in, we can go anywhere we want and never work again.”

Eyes gleamed around the table. Johnny was looking forward to this score. Alvin estimated it that it was three million dollars, a king’s ransom. An eight-way split would net them a cool $375,000 each. He and Mel could leave the country and go to Europe or South America, and he could make sure that Mel would be able to live in the manner to which he was accustomed. He would buy him the finest clothes and jewelry, rings and watches and tieclips, and those Belgian dark chocolates he liked so much. Maybe a book on poetry, too. 

Happy with his plans, Johnny dug into the pancakes when they were ready.

& & & & & &

Johnny was pleased at his gang’s acceptance of his lover. Well, some of them, anyway. Red and Homer accepted Mel, Charles did not care one way or the other, but Pete was still less-than-thrilled. He did not need their approval, but it made things easier. He preferred a harmonious gang as opposed to a suspicious one.

Johnny put on his dark-blue greatcoat and fedora, smiling at Mel. While his gang went out to the car, he pulled his lover close by his suspenders, kissing him deeply.

“Now, you stay inside, darlin’. No showin’ that pretty and famous face to the neighbors.”

“No worries, Johnny. I’ve got my new book and today’s paper to keep me busy. The laundry’s all done.”

“Aw, you’re sweet.” Johnny’s expression grew serious. “I don’t consider you a wife, you know.”

“I know, but we all pitch in. You are quite adept with feather duster and dust mop yourself.”

Johnny grinned. “You bet.” He brushed Mel’s hair. “You’ve got to stay safe, Sunshine. Don’t go breakin’ my heart by getting’ captured.”

Mel grinned. “I won’t.” 

He kissed Johnny again and his lover smiled. “I’ll bring you back something from Cernocky’s. You’re the apple of my eye, after all.” He left the house with a jaunty “See ya down the road, Sunshine.”

& & & & & &

The Buick went down the quiet main street of Cicero, noting the location of the bank. Red stopped the car and Charles jogged out, wearing glasses and his fedora low over his eyes. He went into the bank.

Johnny turned the radio on and Ella Fitzgerald’s rich, dulcet tones sang some cool jazz. A woman in a stylish hat and mink coat walked by, her brown hair neatly bobbed. A man with a pencil-thin mustache walked briskly from the opposite direction, his greatcoat expensive and his pearl-gray fedora perfectly blocked. He reminded Johnny of Mel in the elegant way he dressed.

He smiled as he thought of his lover. Mel was a snappy dresser, no doubt, one of the many things that had attracted Johnny to the shy, soft-spoken Southerner.

He loved Mel’s classiness. He loved his aristocratic bearing and elegance, his well-read mind and his beautiful body. He loved his prowess with firearms and his courage. He had read about some of his lover’s exploits before being assigned as the Chicago office’s Special Agent In Charge.

Most of all, he loved the way Mel looked at him with love in his eyes.

Charles came out of the bank and once he was in the car, Red drove off, planning their ‘git’ as Johnny made notes. They would make a detailed map for their getaway route. A second one would be drawn up in case there was trouble with the first.

“So, easy pickin’s or are we gonna have to work for our money?” asked Johnny.

Charles smirked. Older than the rest of the gang, his balding brown hair was combed over neatly, his suit a little baggy as he had lost weight recently. Johnny considered his mind as sharp as a tack. 

“In-between. The vault’s good and strong, but there’s no mezzanine, so no guard up top who can shoot at us with bullets or tear gas.” 

“That’s always a plus,” Red drawled, the men sniggering.

Charles grinned. “There’s a guard by the door but we can take care of him. There are four teller cages, and the manager’s desk is located by the vault. All fancy marble, of course.”

“Of course,” Johnny said dryly. “Nobody else can afford it.”

Pete snickered. “Jus’ the fat cat bankers.”

“Hell, yeah. We’re doin’ folks a favor by getting’ back at those bastards,” Homer agreed.

“And if we get some sugar on top outta the deal, what of it?” Johnny smirked.

“Danged right!” Pete said, slapping the top of the front seat.

It was a merry band of men that drove through the streets of Cicero.

  
**IX**  


  
**"WAITIN’ AT THE STATION..."**  


  
_"Waitin’ at the station  
For a train  
That never comes._  


  
_Waitin’ at the station  
For pain  
That always comes."_  


  


  
**‘Big Muddy’ Connors  
"Delta Blues"   
Decca Records   
1931 C.E.**

Johnny and Red lingered over their satisfying meal at Louis Cernocky’s _Crystal Room_ in Fox River Grove. The tavern was a favorite hangout of yeggs like them, and Cernocky always served good beer and wine and equally-good food. The gang had enjoyed steaks and baked potatoes and French green beans, and apple pie for dessert. 

As the rest of the gang went off to dance with girls they had picked up at the bar, Red and Johnny stayed at the table, finishing their wine.

Red watched Homer as he danced, asking the waiter for another piece of pie. The big man had a healthy appetite but never seemed to get fat. Johnny envied that talent. If he had eaten like that, he would have weighed over two hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce.

_Mel stays slender. Must be all that nervous energy._

Johnny had to keep an eye on Mel. When the Southerner was upset, he did not eat. If he worried until Johnny came back, he would probably eat very little.

When the waiter returned, Johnny asked, “You got pecan pie on the menu?”

“No, sir, but we got apple, lemon, and blueberry.”

”Could you set aside a lemon pie for me? I’ll take it when we leave.”

“Sure thing.”

After the waiter left, Johnny asked a smiling Red, “What?”

“You got a hankerin’ for lemon pie?”

“Hey, it’s one of Mel’s favorites.”

“Along with pecan?”

“Yeah.”

Red sipped his wine. “I’ve never seen you so head-over-heels.”

Johnny leaned back, “He’s special.”

& & & & & &

 _Oh, I got no doubt of that._

Red had never seen Johnny fall so hard for anyone before. His old friend was completely besotted.

It could have been an extremely dangerous situation. If Melvin had been playing Johnny, he could have gotten them all in jail by now. Hoover would have pinned a medal on him and given him the keys to the city. 

Red had been suspicious of the soft-spoken Southerner at first. A wealthy G-Man with Hoover’s favor jeopardizing all that for a fling with the man he was supposed to bring in?

Except that it was not just a fling. Mel had given up everything to be with Johnny.

Mel had fit in despite the other gang members’ wariness, Pete nearly mutinying. He took his turn at chores without complaint despite being used to a Negro manservant taking care of him back in his old life. 

Mel did not take part in their robberies, which suited Johnny fine.

& & & & & &

 _“He’s not trained, and besides, I…”_

_“…don’t want him in the line of fire?” Red asked._

_A little sheepishly, Johnny nodded._

_“He’s a G-Man, John. Plenty of battles fought.”_

_“I don’t care.” Johnny’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “I can’t ask him to take part. Isn’t it enough he’s violated his principles by runnin’ off with me?”_

_“He chose to.”_

_“I know. Look, I’ll share my cut with him, so no one gets short shrift for a guy who doesn’t take part.”_

_“I didn’t think you would give him a full share.”_

_“I know. I just don’t want him to tear himself up over helping us plan bank robberies or anything. He’s conflicted enough as it is.”_

_“But not about you?”_

_Johnny smiled. “Not about me.”_

& & & & & &

Red hoped that Mel never betrayed Johnny. He doubted it after getting to know the man, but if it did happen, it would kill Johnny.

_Literally, considering what Hoover’s plans are for him._

Still, Mel was either a better actor even than Gable, or he truly loved Johnny. The devotion in his eyes, his sacrifices to keep Johnny safe, even little things like cutting up the apple for his man’s breakfast…Red doubted it was all an act. 

_Life sure is funny. A gangster and a G-Man. Hah. Bet Jimmy Cagney and Pat O’Brien don’t fuck like rabbits, though who knows off-screen?_

“What are you moonin’ about?” Johnny asked.

Red grinned. “Just daydreaming, my friend.”

Johnny smirked. He looked up and smiled at the newcomer heading for their table. “Hey, Alvin.”

“Hey, John. Hi, Red.”

“Hi, Al. Sit down and take a load off.” Red took out a cigar and offered it, Alvin declining.

“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.” The slender man blinked owlishly behind his glasses. He had the look of a college professor and the brains to match.

“No big deal. We already ate, but if you want something go ahead. My treat.” Johnny signaled their waiter.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Alvin ordered prime rib, baked potato, and carrots. He enjoyed a glass of wine while waiting for his meal.

“So, what’s this train all about?” Johnny asked.

They were sufficiently far away from the other tables not to be overheard, the music from the band at the end of the room overlaying their conversation.

Alvin grinned. “It’s a sweet job. It’s a Federal Reserve shipment, a cool three mil.”

“Yikes,” said Red.

Alvin nodded. “An eight-way split will still give us a nice bit of change apiece.”

“You’re not kiddin’.” Johnny sipped his wine. “When?”

“In two weeks.”

“Where?”

“Rock Creek. I’ll have the gits ready when you arrive but if you can come a day early, Red can run the routes.”

“Good.”

“You got something cooking?” Alvin asked shrewdly.

“First National in Cicero.”

“Why risk it? The score’s worth plenty. You don’t need the bank’s cash.”

Johnny was prevented from replying by the arrival of Alvin’s food. He dug in enthusiastically. After the waiter left, Johnny supplied the answer.

“We need to pay off some bills.” At Alvin’s quizzical look, he elaborated, “Syndicate bills.” 

“Ah.” Alvin chewed a piece of meat. “Better get that taken care of then.” As he ate, he asked, “So how you doing, John?”

Red excused himself to go to the men’s room and Johnny said, “Oh, doin’ fine.”

“So, your G-Man doesn’t get a share?”

“He shares my share.”

“Smart.”

“Also good business. Mel doesn’t take part in the robberies so he doesn’t get a full share.”

“But you’re taking a risk and giving up half your share.”

“I take care of my man.”

Alvin cut his meat. “He must take care of you.”

“He does.” Johnny looked relaxed. “He’s not my wife, Al, but he’s who I’m going back to tomorrow after we pull the Cicero job, and that’s all I need from him.”

Alvin scooped up the meat of the baked potato and chewed thoughtfully. “No offense, but how can you trust a cop?”

“Ex-cop.”

Alvin smiled as he speared a carrot slice. “No such ting, my friend.”

“Maybe so.”

“Okay.”

“That’s all you got to say?”

“What’s more to say? You trust your G-Man.”

“I do.”

Johnny was not sure if Alvin believed him or not, because ‘Creepy’ Karpis trusted very few people, but he was the smartest crook Johnny knew.

& & & & & &

That night Johnny began to get ready for bed. Charles and Pete shared one room, Red and Homer the other, and Johnny had this room to himself.

As he brushed his teeth, he realized that this was his first night sleeping alone since Mel had joined him permanently. Sighing, he rinsed his mouth out and rubbed his shoulder. He was going to bed in his pants and undershirt in case he needed to make a quick getaway, his shirt on the straight-backed chair, his coat and hat hanging on the back of the door. His guns were in easy reach on the nightstand and propped against the wall.

He climbed into bed. He was already missing Mel.

_Hope you’re getting a good night’s sleep, Sunshine._

He pulled the covers up, suddenly cold.

  
**X**  


  
**BROKEN**  


  
_We had the world  
At our feet  
Before the world  
Kicked back._  


  


  
**Charles Quentin  
"Cold, Cruel World"   
1919 C.E.**

The robbery of the First National Bank in Cicero, Illinois, went smoothly, the gang in-and-out before the cops even knew there was a robbery.

The $36,000 take was substantial, even though half of it was going to the Syndicate. The upgrade of their armaments and use of the safehouse cost money, along with medical services after their last job. Johnny thought it prudent not to cross the Syndicate. Pay off their bills and then hit the train was his way of thinking.

 _And after that, you and me out of the country, Sunshine. Free as birds!_

Red drove them away from the bank, Pete and Charles taking care of the money. Johnny had gloried in the robbery, wondering briefly what it would be like to see Mel as part of the gang, holding a tommygun and looking like the sexiest bank robber in America, along with himself, of course.

They changed cars and drove back to Chicago, Johnny eager to reach the safehouse. He smiled as he looked down at the box containing the lemon pie from the Crystal Room. Mel would be more delighted with this than with the money.

Red parked the car in the back of the house, Johnny the first one out. He trotted into the house.

“Honey, I’m home!” he smirked.

He stopped dead. Gently dropping the box onto a chair, he drew his gun.

The living room was a mess. A chair was overturned, the couch jammed against the wall, and a vase was shattered, the shards spread across the rug. The lampshade was askew on the table lamp, and a picture hung crookedly on the wall. 

All frightening in itself, but what chilled Johnny most was the patch of dark red blood on the gold rug. 

“Mel!”

Red came in and nearly bumped into Johnny. “Cripes.” He pulled his gun and called Mel’s name, too.

Charles, Pete and Homer came in, whipping out their guns. Homer looked at Red, who shook his head.

Johnny went to the kitchen, Red directing the others to different parts of the house. Everyone moved cautiously except for Johnny.

The kitchen was empty except for the dishes drying in the rack, and an apple on a cutting board. There was no knife. Had Mel used it when he was attacked? There was no blood in here. He turned to check the bedroom.

Red stood in the entrance of the kitchen. “He’s not in the house, John.”

The icy pit in his stomach tightened. “He’s gotta be.”

“He’s gone.”

Johnny wanted to scream. He looked down at the floor, trying to control his emotions.

Pete came up behind Red. “That Fed took off on us?”

Red turned and glared. “Shut up, Pete.”

Johnny looked up, his amber eyes angry. “Mel did _not_ skip out on us. Use your head for something besides a hatrack, Pete. The parlor was busted up. Someone came in and roughed my Mel up and took him away.”

Red and Homer exchanged a look as the blond came into the kitchen, followed by Charles. They obviously hoped that Mel was still alive.

Pete scowled. “So who took ‘im? The Syndicate? Nelson?”

“Could be worse,” Red said. At the gang’s puzzled looks, he elaborated, “The Bureau.”

Johnny was sick. “I wouldn’t put it past Hoover’s boys to draw blood.”

“He _is_ a traitor,” Pete snorted.

Homer rolled his eyes. “Boy, Pete, sometimes you can be as dumb as a brick.”

Pete gestured rudely in reply.

“We gotta look for clues,” Johnny said impatiently.

“We gotta get outta here,” Red countered. “If the Feds _did_ take Mel, they’re probably watchin’ the house.”

“Hell, yeah!” Pete agreed. “We gotta get out now.”

“You guys go ahead. I’ll look around,” said Johnny.

Red checked out the window. “I don’t see anybody. Grab your stuff. Maybe we can high-tail it outta here before we get any visitors.”

“Red…” Johnny frowned.

“Homer, pack Johnny and Mel’s stuff after yours. I’ll help.”

The gang dispersed and Johnny glared at Red. “We can’t just leave!”

“Use your head for something besides a hatrack, John.” At the echo of his earlier words to Pete, Johnny scowled. “No matter who took him, we have to scram.”

Johnny bit his lip. “All right. Thanks for packing for me and Mel. I’m going to look for clues.” He flexed his gloved hand. “Oh, don’t forget his granddaddy’s watch. It’s in a small case in the top dresser drawer.”

Red left the kitchen and Johnny grabbed a chair, keeping himself upright as dizziness assailed him, the enormity of what had happened beginning to hit him. 

_Aww, Mel, where **are** you?_

& & & & & &

Johnny sifted through the wreckage in the parlor, growing increasingly desperate as time ticked away. Red was right. They could not stay, but he wished that he could find something.

His mind kept drifting back to yesterday morning and his parting from Mel. Mel was healthy and happy and now he could be hurt and where was he?

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. A headache was coming on. He wearily got to his feet, trying to figure out his next move.

His men came in the parlor, dragging suitcases full of clothes and guns.

“Let’s go, John.” Red cocked his fedora and easily picked up his two suitcases.

Johnny picked up the pie box and placed it in his suitcase. At Red’s look, he said, “I brought that pie home for Mel, and I intend to see that he gets it.”

The Dillinger Gang left the no-longer-safehouse behind.

  
**XI**  


  
**A DISH BEST SERVED COLD**  


  
_Revenge, they say,  
Is a dish  
Best served cold.  
Just don’t let it  
Get too old._  


  


  
**Alan Bremerton  
"Winter Frost"   
1922 C.E.**

Red glanced at Johnny. His usually gregarious friend was silent, staring out the window of the Buick. In the backseat, Homer, Pete and Charles kept their voices low as they talked.

The drive through Chicago was at the speed limit. No way would he speed, attracting attention. He was no dummy. They saw no cops, just ordinary citizens going about their business.

Red wondered what scheme Johnny was cooking up.

& & & & & &

Johnny was not planning much of anything except revenge, but against whom?

_If it **is** Nitti, he’s gonna learn what crossing John Dillinger means, Syndicate or no Syndicate._

_If it’s Nelson, I’ll machine-gun him myself. He should know better than to double-cross a fellow yegg._

_And it’s Hoover, he’s gonna find out just how much an enemy Public Enemy No. 1 is._

He stared out at the passing scenery, not really seeing it. All he could see was Mel, smiling at him as he had sent him off yesterday morning.

_I should never have stayed away overnight. You were too vulnerable. What was I **thinking** , leaving you alone?_

He curled his hand into a fist.

_**Somebody** is gonna pay._

& & & & & &

The safe house in East Chicago would allow the gang to relax at least a little, though the irony of using a Syndicate safehouse when that organization might have snatched Mel was not lost on Johnny and Red. They led the rest into the new house.

The packing had been quick since they kept their clothes in the suitcases except for a shirt or two on hangers to get the wrinkles out. Travel kits were placed in bathrooms and easily snatched up fro a quick getaway. 

There were three bedrooms to claim, and like the arrangement at the Crystal Room, the partners remained the same, leaving Johnny on his own when he should have been with Mel.

He dragged his suitcases in his room, going back for Mel’s. Opening his suitcase, he took out the pie box and went into the kitchen, placing it in the icebox.

“You still think he’s comin’ back?” Red asked.

Johnny shook his head, surprising Red. “No, we’re gonna go get him.”

Red smiled. “Now _that_ sounds like my Johnny.”

Johnny answered his smile. “You betcha. We have to figure out who took him and where he is.” His eyes hardened slightly. “And, yes, I believe he was taken. If he had betrayed us, there would have been G-Men waiting for us back at the first house.”

“There would have if the Feds took him, too. So what do you figure? The Syndicate?”

“Seems odd, unless they didn’t believe me about paying off the debt and took Mel hostage.”

“If they did, they would have contacted you already.” 

“True, but maybe we lit out before they could.”

“Maybe.” Red rubbed his face. “We could see that Mel fought his kidnappers.”

“That doesn’t help. He would have fought Nitti’s boys or the Feds.”

“Or Nelson.”

Johnny’s stomach knotted. Nelson might be the worse of the bunch: too unpredictable and a man who loathed all cops, but especially Bureau agents.

And especially Mel.

& & & & & &

 _“George, it’s all right,” Johnny drawled._

_George ‘Baby Face’ Nelson had his tommy gun trained on Mel, who was pale, his liquid-dark eyes huge in his face. He was standing in the parlor of their safehouse, Johnny in one entrance as Nelson stood in the other that led from the kitchen. His boyish face was scrunched up in rage._

_“He’s a fuckin’ Fed, Johnny! He’s a rat and worse.”_

_“He’s all right, George. He won’t go runnin’ to the G-Men.”_

_“He is a G-Man.” Nelson’s finger tightened on the trigger._

_Mel was as still as a statue but Johnny could tell that he was ready to move. He was inching toward Nelson himself._

_“Ya know what I do with dirty coppers?” Nelson sneered. “I blow ‘em away!”_

_Johnny plunged toward Nelson as Mel ducked behind a large, overstuffed chair. Nelson yelled as Johnny grabbed his gun._

_Mel came out from behind the chair and ran to help Johnny, the two of them struggling with the crazed Nelson, who seemed to have the strength of ten men. A bullet hit the ceiling, plaster raining down as the trio rolled around on the floor, knocking over tables and chairs. Finally Mel kicked Nelson in the groin while Johnny punched him in the mouth. He still had a deathgrip on the gun, but Johnny stomped on his fingers as Nelson howled in pain, letting go._

_“You fuckers! Get fuckin’ **off** me!”_

_“Keep calm, George,” said Johnny, throwing the gun away._

_Mel and Johnny finally managed to tie Nelson up. His pal Tommy Carroll burst in._

_“What’s goin’ on?”_

_“Take your buddy out of here,” Johnny said. “We don’t take kindly to death threats.”_

_Tommy’s blue eyes widened but he kept his counsel, shoving Nelson toward the door._

_“You got a traitor in your gang, Dillinger. You can’t trust a copper, no matter how much you bribe ‘im!” He glared at Mel. “You’ll pay for this, Fed!”_

_After Tommy had hustled Nelson out, Mel said, “Whew! Rather volatile, wouldn’t you say?”_

_Johnny smiled, a surge of love bringing his arms around his lover. They held each other tight._

& & & & & &

“I’d rather it be Nitti than Nelson,” Johnny ground out.

“Yeah.” Red frowned. “I’m not really sure it’s the Syndicate. They would have contacted us by now.”

Johnny snapped his fingers. “I got a quick way of finding out if Mel was taken by one of our suspects.”

“Oh?” Red watched as Johnny, still clad in his greatcoat and fedora, strode to the wall phone. He quickly dialed a familiar number.

“Hello, Doris, darlin’. How’s my Sunshine?”

  
**XII**  


  
**SCORNED**  


"They say a woman scorned is the one to watch out for,  
but a man scorned is just as dangerous."

  


  
**Percy Haversham  
"Life’s Tides"   
1926 C.E.**

Doris’ blue eyes widened. She kept her voice low as she asked, “Where have you been?”

_“Oh, around.”_

“He’s in trouble.”

A pause, then, _“Is he there?”_

“Yes.” Doris looked at Carter, who was listening intently. “They brought him in early yesterday morning and have been interrogating him ever since. It’s bad, Jack.” She deliberately used his other nickname as she always did in these phone conversations.

_“How bad?”_

She could hear the strong concern in his voice. “They’re working him over, trying to find out where you are.”

_“And he won’t give me up.”_

“He’ll die first.”

A hiss of breath sounded over the line. _“Can you meet me at **The Yellow Daffodil** at six?”_

“They close at six.”

_“Damn, that’s right. Okay, what about five?”_

“I’ll be there.”

_“Be certain, darlin’. You could get in big girl trouble.”_

“I know. See you at five.”

Doris hung up the phone. Carter said, “I’m going with you.”

She nodded. “We can leave at quitting time and still make it. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“Which place?”

She glanced around. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

& & & & & &

Inside the interrogation room, Hoover looked at his former star agent with contempt. He waved Clegg to shut the door, leaving only him and Mel in the room painted a bilious green.

Mel felt the aches and pains of his body acutely. His wrist was raw from the handcuff and his throat was parched. He dearly wanted to lie down in a comfortable bed, preferably in Johnny’s arms, but that was never happening again.

Hoover slowly approached. “How could you, Melvin?” At Mel’s silence, the older man scowled, “How could you betray your ideals, your friends and colleagues…me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t, otherwise you never would have done it in the first place.”

Mel sighed. “It was never about you, Jayee.”

“Oh, I beg to differ, Agent Purvis.” When Mel looked up, he saw the coldness in his former boss’ eyes. “It’s always been about me and you.” He sighed. “Remember how we started out? We both believed in the Bureau’s mission, our mission.”

“Jayee…”

“You see? You can’t help but use your pet name for me, dearest.”

Mel refrained from saying that it was a nickname that Hoover had requested that he use. There was just no arguing with him sometimes, and right now he was too tired. 

“Now, Melvin, I understand the allure of the criminal. In our business, it’s all too common. We spend so much time thinking about these lowlifes that we become perversely fascinated with them, therefore we might start sympathizing with them.”

 _You should work on your persuasive skills, Jayee_ , Mel thought with a touch of amusement.

“Now, I’m willing to admit that John Dillinger is a charmer, even comely, but he’s just an ill-educated farmboy with nine years of hard time already under his belt. There’s no future there.” Hoover was standing very close to Mel now, his legs almost touching his former agent’s knees. “I’ve already put out the word that the situation is dire. You were kidnapped and we’re still looking for you. That’s for general consumption. Here, officially I can say you took a bribe, or better yet, were deeply undercover.”

“Very clever,” rasped Mel. “But if I’m undercover, why am I allowing…the likes of Rienecke to beat me up? Why not…just tell them what they want to know?”  
“That’s the problem of undercover work. Sometimes you have to suffer.”

Mel closed his eyes, trying to keep his stomach from reacting to his throbbing headache.

“The people here know I ran off with…” Mel gasped as his shoulders were grasped hard. He opened his eyes, blinking at Hoover’s face so close to his own, his dark eyes blazing with messianic fervor.

“They can be silenced! If they want their jobs, they’ll keep their mouths shut. You will be re-installed as my No. 1 G-Man, ruling at my side, a hero greater than you were before.” He shook Mel. “Don’t you see? You can be what you were destined to be!”

“And what…do you want in return, Jayee?”

“You.” Hoover brushed his lips over Mel’s. “After you give me Dillinger.”

Mel jerked back. “Sorry, Jayee.”

Hoover’s grip on his shoulders tightened painfully. “Then we’ll let him go.”

Mel thought that he had heard wrong. “What?”

Hoover cupped his face. “Come to my bed, and I’ll let Dillinger get away.”

Mel wrenched his head away. “He’s already long gone.”

“Tell me where he is!”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Liar!” Hoover backhanded Mel across the face, then did it again, the chair nearly falling over with the force of the blow. “Ungrateful wretch! I gave you everything, and you threw it all back in my face! You prefer that scum Dillinger? I’ll see to it that you never see the light of day or him again.”

Through blurred vision, Mel saw Hoover’s rage. He felt rage of his own build up.

“I will _never_ give Johnny up!”

“Then you are doomed, _Melvin.”_

_I probably am._

  
**XIII**  


  
**PLANS**  


  
_And the White Knight  
Said to his merry men,  
‘Tis time to storm  
The castle  
And rescue  
My true Beloved._  


  


  
**Sir Malory Arthur  
"The White Knight   
And His Beloved Fair"   
1926 C.E.**

Doris looked up as Hoover came barreling out of the hall. “He stays here tonight.”

“In holding, sir?” Sam asked.

“Right where he is.” Hoover’s eyes glittered. “Good enough for a traitor.”

Carter scowled, but kept silent. He had no desire to be noticed, especially not right now. He and Doris exchanged a look.

“But, sir,” Sam protested. “It’s really not proper to…”

“Cowley, just do as you’re told. Traitors get no special treatment.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam’s words were obedient, but his jaw was set hard.

“Time to go to dinner, gentlemen,” Hoover said. “Sam, I need to go over some things with you. Doc, I need your report.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam and Doc said. Hoover indicated that Rorer, Clegg, and Rienecke were to join them.

“All right, people, time to go home,” Hoover said. It was not a suggestion.

Doris stood and put her hat and coat on, Carter a little slower. She smiled sweetly at the Director, her stomach churning. She and Carter left together, and Doris whispered, “Take your time. We’ll make it.”

Carter nodded.

It was busy on the street as office workers streamed out of the Bankers Building and other places. Doris matched her pace to Carter’s, though her heart was pounding.

_Risky business, Doris. Very risky business._

They reached _The Yellow Daffodil_ , glad to get in out of the cold as they went inside. Doris casually scanned the restaurant, her pulse increasing as she saw the man they had come to meet.

& & & & & &

  
**Two Hours Earlier**  


Johnny hung up the telephone, Red leaning against the kitchen counter.

“The Feds have him.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Doris says they’re workin’ him over.” Johnny stared at the yellow-sprigged wallpaper. “It’s real bad.”

Red walked over and squeezed his friend’s shoulder.

Johnny turned around. “I’m going after him.”

Red frowned. “I know you’re upset, but think about it, John. How can you walk right in there and take Mel?”

“Just like I walked out of Crown Point. I can do this, Red.”

“Johnny…”

Johnny put a hand on Red’s shoulder. “I know it’s risky. If you and the others don’t want to do it, I’ll understand.”

Red shook his head. “Johnny, we’ll back your play, but this is crazy! You can’t walk into the lion’s den without gettin’ your head bitten off.”

“I can.”

Red looked into Johnny’s eyes. “All right, I’ll gather everyone.”

Johnny smiled. “Thanks, Red.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled his friend. “Hey, guys! Parlor, right away.”

A few minutes later, Johnny walked into the parlor, his gang looking at him inquisitively.

“The Feds have him.”

“Damn,” Charles said quietly.

“Yeah.” Johnny took off his gloves and touched his fedora, the very image of the dashing gentlemen, only his men knew better. They could read the turmoil in his eyes and hear it in his voice. “I’m going to get him out.”

Homer pushed away from the wall that he had been leaning against. “Johnny…”

Johnny held out a hand. “It’s okay, Homer. This is all strictly voluntary.”

“It’s not that. I’ll back you, but how can we pull this off?”

“With a lot of planning.” Johnny looked at his men. “They’re workin’ him over, trying to get him to tell them where we are. Mel will never tell.” His voice trembled slightly. “He’ll die first.”

There was silence for a minute, then Charles said, “Like Homer says, we’ll back your play.”

Johnny smiled. “Thank you.” He hitched his shoulders. “Let’s start planning.”

& & & & & &

  
**The Present**  


Johnny’s eyes met Doris’, and she led Carter over to the booth in the corner. He stood as she approached.

“Glad you could come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Doris. She and Carter put their hats and coats on the coatrack. “And this is...”

“Carter Baum.” Johnny smiled. “Mel told me a lot about you.”

“Not all good, I hope.” He laughed at their faces. “Hey, a guy has to have some kind of a reputation.”

Johnny smirked. “I like you, Agent Baum.”

“Thank you, Mister…uh, thanks.”

Johnny winked. “All right now, where’s my Sunshine bein’ held?”

“The nineteenth floor. He’s in an interrogation room in the hall off the main squadroom.” Doris sighed. “He’s chained to the chair.”

“Chained?” 

“Yeah.” Doris rubbed the back of her neck. “Handcuffs, wrist and ankle. He’s been in that chair since yesterday morning. The only water he’s had is what Carter and I have given him.”

Johnny’s face hardened. “You said that he was bein’ worked over.”

Carter spoke up. “He is. He’s pretty battered.”

“So your Bureau plays rough.”

Carter grimaced. “Not everyone approves. Our SAC, Sam Cowley, does his best, but Hoover rules with an iron fist.”

“Hoover.” Johnny sipped his hot chocolate. “Now _there’s_ a piece of work.”

The waitress came over and Carter ordered a hot turkey sandwich, Doris selecting a chicken salad sandwich. Johnny requested roast beef, French fries, and green beans.

“Better fuel up. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Carter and Doris nodded.

“Got room for one more?”

“Charles!” Doris looked around fearfully. “What are you doing here? Who’s with you?”

“No one.” Charles slid in the booth next to Johnny, who tensed. “Relax, son, I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to help you.”

“Why, Charles?” asked Doris.

“Let’s just say I don’t cotton to the way our former SAC is bein’ treated.”

Admiration shone in Doris’ eyes. “You can trust this man, Johnny.”

The gangster looked at the Texan for a moment, sizing him up. “Mel says that you’re one of the finest agents his Bureau’s got.” Charles nodded. “I like your confidence, Agent Winstead.”

“Let’s plan.”

Charles ordered steak, baked potato, and green beans, and Johnny said, “I’ve got my men with me. Red’s here, and the others are in a restaurant a few doors down.” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Are you sure that Mel’s still in that interrogation room?”

“He was when I left a few minutes ago,” Charles said.

“How did you find us if you just left?” asked Doris.

“I overheard you say you were comin’ here.” At their alarmed expressions, he said, “Relax, no one else did.”

“What’s the security like?” Johnny asked.

“Minimal. If they were holding Purvis in a cell, there’d be a Chicago cop guarding him.” Charles smiled at the waitress who brought their food. “As they’re keepin’ him upstairs, there’s just regular security.”

“Better for us, then.”

Carter frowned as he took a bite of his sandwich. “The security might be scant, but they could still cause us trouble. The guards make regular rounds, and then there’s Hoover and the other agents to consider. What if they come back after dinner?”

“They won’t,” Charles said. “Hoover wants to hold a meeting over dinner at _The Lakeshore Club.”_

“That tony place?”asked Johnny.

Charles nodded as he cut his steak. “He’ll preen like a peacock while he holds court. That dinner will be a long one. It’s doubtful they’ll come back, at least until we’re long gone.”

“Shouldn’t we go now?” asked Doris, putting down her sandwich.

Carter shook his head. “The guards are in the lobby until seven, and besides, too many people around.”

Charles nodded. “We can get in and out right quick later.” He glanced over at Red a few tables down. “Hamilton gonna be the lobby man?”

“That’s usually Pete’s job,” Johnny grinned. “But, yeah, Red will keep things nice ‘n’ quiet in the lobby, if we need it. Doris, you and Carter use the elevator to get upstairs. Charles and I will take the stairs.”

“Where will your men be?” Carter asked.

“In a car a few feet down the block. Charles is behind the wheel, Pete’s ridin’ shotgun, and Homer’s going to be in the hat store, keeping his eyes open.”

“Sounds like one of your damned bank jobs,” muttered Charles.

Johnny chuckled. “Organization is the key, cowboy.” All good humor left his face. The dangerous John Dillinger replaced the genial Gentleman Johnny. “I want my Mel back before they hurt him any worse.”

“You’ll have your man back before the night is out,” Charles promised, and Carter and Doris nodded.

Johnny hoped so, for both his and Mel’s sakes.

  
**XIV**  


  
**SCENES FROM A RESCUE**  


  
_Thoughts twine ‘round  
As heroes found,  
That life is profound  
When faced with sound  
Of fury._  


  


  
**Axel P. Brown  
"Sound And Fury"**   
1916 C.E. 

Johnny drank his hot chocolate, outwardly calm, but Doris noticed the faint tremor in his hand. She wondered what his thoughts were. He was used to tense operations, but he had always carried off his bank robberies with _élan._ The stakes were so much higher now.

She sipped her own coffee, checking her watch. The proprietor of _The Yellow Daffodil_ had locked the door, only unlocking it to let customers out. It was 6:30, the restaurant closing at six because they opened at six in the morning for breakfast. The remaining diners were finishing up their meals.

The foursome at the booth lingered as long as they dared, waiting for seven o’clock. Red had already left to join the rest of the gang. 

Doris smiled at Charles. She was amazed that he had thrown his lot in with them, but he was even more attractive to her now. He looked up and met her eyes, smiling back. 

They were the last customers left, and Charles put down his coffee cup. “We should go and let these nice people close up.”

Doris noticed that it was 6:45. Close enough.

& & & & & &

Out on the cold Chicago street, Doris and Carter headed back to the Bankers Building. Johnny nodded to Red, who was walking briskly past them on his way to the building.

Charles looked at Johnny. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks, Agent Winstead.”

“I won’t even get after ya for involvin’ Doris. She has a mind of her own, that one. Even if you told her not to do this, she would.”

Johnny grinned. “She’s quite a woman.”

“Damned straight.” Charles pulled his fedora brim a little lower. “And I gotta say, you’re a loyal one.”

Johnny’s smile was a little brighter. “It’s easy to be with Mel.”

“He must be some charmer.”

“Oh, he is.”

Charles snorted as Johnny laughed. “We’d best be goin’ to get your man.”

“That we should.”

The two of them walked down the street toward the Bankers Building.

& & & & & &

Mel feebly clawed at the handcuff. His wrist was throbbing. The skin had been rubbed raw by now, and on his ankle, too, from the other cuff. He yanked on the wrist cuff in frustration. His head pounded and his stomach fluttered with nausea. Slumping in his chair, he whispered, “Johnny.”

& & & & & &

J. Edgar Hoover was holding court, just the way he liked it. Sam was to his right, Doc to his left. He missed Clyde by his side, but his longtime companion had stayed behind in Washington, perhaps sensing Hoover’s desperation to get Mel back.

 _The Lakeshore Club was swanky_ , all dark wood and glittering chandeliers and thick, plush, wine-red carpet. The food and drinks were of high quality, and maybe the wine could soothe the burning in his gut.

How dare that ungrateful wretch betray him in the worse possible way! Why, he had made a star out of that man. Melvin Purvis could have had the world delivered to him on a silver platter, tied with a big, red bow, but had spurned it all for gutter trash like Dillinger.

Really, it was all so insane! Melvin could be by his side right now in this prestigious club, looked up to by the other Bureau agents and the civilians casting glances their way from the other tables.

Instead he had chosen to run around with low-lifes, hiding in safehouses and never knowing where his next meal was coming from, instead of dining on the sumptuous feast spread out before him.

Melvin was gorgeous, but did not have a brain his pretty head.

& & & & & &

Doris and Carter took the elevator up to the 19th floor. It would have been too cruel to force Carter to walk the stairs.

As the doors closed and the elevator began to rise, Doris said, “You really are a good friend, aren’t you?”

Carter chuckled. “I hope so. Mel’s always been one to me.” His smile faded. “After Little Bohemia, I was at a loss to understand what had happened and why Mel had disappeared. I feared that he was dead, and when I learned that he was alive but with Dillinger, that hurt.”

“I can understand that.” Doris glanced up at the floor indicator. “You didn’t know about his feelings for Johnny. It must have seemed like a terrible betrayal, but I can’t believe that he deliberately messed up that operation to let Johnny get away, like some of the agents believe.”

“No, that’s not Mel.” Carter ran his thumb up-and-down his cane. “I want to apologize about earlier.”

“Carter…”

He shook his head and met her eyes. “I was upset by Mel running off with Dillinger. He betrayed us here at the Bureau for the man he…we…were supposed to bring to justice.” He sighed. “Maybe I wanted to punish him for that, I don’t know, but I thought about it last night after seeing him so beaten up.” His eyes were haunted. “Doris, the Bureau betrayed _him_. All this thuggery…we’re no better than the gangsters! In fact, we might be worse, because the gangsters don’t pretend to uphold justice.” 

Doris sympathetically patted his arm. “It’ll be all right, Carter.”

He smiled a little. “Let’s go rescue Mel.”

The elevator dinged as it reached the 19th floor, the doors sliding open.

& & & & & &

Johnny hiked up the stairs, adrenaline pushing him on. He was impressed by Charles’ stamina. The lean Texan was barely breathing hard. He had to have at least twenty years on Johnny. As they reached the 16th floor, Johnny halted.

“What is it?” Charles whispered.

“Thought I heard somethin’.” They both listened for a minute, but all was quiet. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Let’s wait a minute to be sure.”

Johnny nodded, leaning against the wall. He craved a cigarette, but there was no time. He hated waiting, but patience was required in operations like this. He just was anxious to get to his Mel. He glanced up the stairs.

“You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?”

Johnny looked at Charles, a small smile on his face. “Yeah.” He scratched his head. “Darned if I know how it h happened.”

“I wouldn’t fret on it much, son. That Southern belle of yours is a pretty piece, all right.”

“I know.” Johnny laid his head back against the wall. “I can’t help but feel that Mel would be better off without me, though. Seems like I’ve brought him nothin’ but trouble.”

“Trouble he’s willin’ to take on.”

“I know.” Johnny pulled his fedora lower over his eyes. “But I don’t like him suffering."

“He’s strong.”

Johnny smiled. “That he is.” He squared his shoulders. “Let’s go get him.”

& & & & & &

Mel was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep and dream. He suspected that his suffering would increase a thousandfold once he was in Leavenworth or some other Federal prison. Would he be able to just check out and live on his memories when the guards and prisoners had their way with him?

He gasped as a sharp pain sliced through his side like a red-hot poker.

Maybe he would be spared a long life in prison.

& & & & & &

Hoover was growing increasingly restless. He was tired of the syncophantic answers and toadying, at least for the moment. All bright young men except for Doc, the tough old Texan, and Reinecke, dumb as a post, but none could hold a candle to his Melvin. He missed honeyed Southern tones, stylish suits, and liquid-dark eyes gazing adoringly at him, as Melvin had done when they had first met.

_We could be that way again, honey. You’re just too good to let go._

Hoover made up his mind. He would give Melvin one more chance.

“Boys, time to get back to the Bankers Building.”


	3. Breaching The Tower

**XV**

**BREACHING THE TOWER**

_And up in the tower_  
The White Knight  
Found his Beloved Fair,  
His sword true  
His heart pure,  
And his love bright. 

  


  
**Sir Malory Arthur  
** "The White Knight  
And His Beloved Fair"  
1926 C.E. 

The elevator doors opened, and Carter and Doris cautiously emerged. 

“Looks like the coast is clear,” Carter said.

“Good. The next check from Security won’t be for a half hour.”

Doris hurried toward the door labeled **The Dillinger Squad** on the frosted glass. Carter glanced around the hall, then followed. Doris glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if he was keeping up. The squadroom was empty, and Carter closed the door behind him.

“Charles and Johnny should be here in ten minutes.” Doris headed for the interrogation room. “Do you have the key?”

“I can get it from Sam’s office.”

Doris waited impatiently by the locked door, Carter bringing the key. He unlocked the door and they hurried in.

“Mel,” Doris said.

Mel was half-asleep, his head drooping. He roused at the sound of Doris’ voice.

“Doris?” he breathed.

“We’re getting you out of here.”

Mel blinked, his yes clouded with pain. He did not seem to comprehend.

“I’ve got the handcuff keys,” said Carter. He bent down to unlock the wrist cuff.

& & & & & &

Johnny nearly leaped the last step, his heart beating fast. He saw the door labeled **The Dillinger Squad** and headed straight for it, Charles right behind him.

“We got twenty minutes,” said the Texan.

“I’m taking my Mel out of here long before that.”

He turned the doorknob, pleased to see the squadroom empty.

“This way,” Charles said.

They hurried down the hall to the interrogation room, the door ajar. Johnny hurried inside.

“Mel,” he breathed.

His stomach churned as he saw the battered man crumpled in the chair, his suit torn and bloody. He hurried forward, cupping Mel’s face tenderly.

“Your beautiful face,” he moaned.

“J…Johnny?” Mel forced his good eye open. _“Johnny?”_

“That’s right, Sunshine.” Johnny was heartsick to see the black eye, split lip, cuts and bruises, and disheveled appearance of his usually-impeccably-neat lover. “I’m here now, Mel.”

“No,” moaned Mel.

“What?”

“I wanted you…far away…and safe!” Mel feebly plucked at Johnny’s coat sleeve. “I never told ‘em…a thing.”

“I know, darlin’.” Johnny gently brushed the hair back from Mel’s eyes. “I never doubted it for a second.”

Mel trembled, whispering Johnny’s name as the Johnny drew him close, Mel’s fingers clutching his coat. 

Carter and Doris exchanged a smile, Charles looking impressed.

“All right now, darlin’, we’ve got to get you out of here.” As Johnny gently disengaged, his eyes darkened as he noticed Mel’s bleeding wrist. He pulled out his handkerchief and gently wrapped it, Mel hissing in pain. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I’ll go keep a look-out,” Carter said. He hobbled as fast as he could manage.

“Let’s get you up, now,” Johnny said.

He took one arm and Charles the other, helping Mel to his feet. The Southerner swayed, crying out and bending over.

“What is it, Mel?” Johnny asked.

“My…side,” he gasped.

“Could be a busted rib,” Charles said.

“Probably…so.” Mel tried to rise. “I …can’t walk.”

Doris was standing in the doorway. She held out a hand. “Quiet,” she said urgently. She could hear Carter’s voice out in the hall.

“I just came back to do some work, Director, and found that Agent Purvis was gone!”

“Hoover’s here!” Doris said, her blue eyes wide.

“Damn!” said Charles.

“Johnny, you have to go,” Mel pleaded.

“Not without you, Sunshine.”

“Baum’s given us an out,” Charles said. “C’mon.”

Mel staggered, crying out softly as Johnny lifted him into his arms.

“Sorry, darlin’, we can’t wait for you to get your sea legs.”

“This way,” Doris urged. They followed her into the ladies’ room at the end of the hall.

She kept the door open a crack as they heard footsteps hurrying down the hall. Several men burst into the now-empty interrogation room, curses flying like lead.

Hoover bellowed, “I want Purvis found! _Now!”_

“C’mon, men, let’s check each floor and outside the building.” Sam quickly gave everyone their marching orders and the agents thundered out of the room, guns drawn.

Doris kept her hand out and mouthed, _“Hoover’s still here.”_

Charles had his weapon drawn, his blue eyes cold and hard. Johnny nuzzled Mel’s cheek, keeping his lover calm.

“You sure you’re okay carryin’ him?” Charles whispered.

”He’s just a stringbean of a man. It’s easy,” Johnny grinned.

”Hamilton smart enough to skedaddle instead of shootin’ it out?”

Johnny nodded. “Once Red realizes what’s up, he’ll lay low.”

“Good. I hope your buddies are ready with that car.”

”They will be. My boys are smart.”

“Even hot-headed Pierpont?”

Johnny grinned. “Ya got me there.”

“Hoover went out into the squadroom. I think he’s heading for Mel’s office,” Doris announced.

“We’ll have to make our move now,” Johnny said.

“But where?” Doris asked. “They’ll be on every floor and outside.”

“Not every floor.” Charles pulled his fedora brim a little lower. “If we’re lucky, we’ll hit a floor they’re not on. There aren’t enough agents to cover all these floors.”

“Johnny, you can’t carry me all the way,” Mel protested weakly.

“Hush now. You’re hurt and weak from hunger, aren’t you?” At Mel’s abashed expression, Johnny said, “I know you’re strong, but you can’t travel fast right now.” He finished softly, “And when I said strong, I meant it. You took a beatin’ for me and the boys and didn’t crack. You’re the strongest man I know.”

“C’mon, let’s get out while the gettin’s good.” Charles reached for the doorknob but Doris asked, “Where can we go?” 

“You’re goin’ nowhere. Stay in here while…”

“You listen to me, Charles Winstead. I’m not going to cower here in the ladies’ room while you men play hero! I’m in all the way, got it?”

Charles and Johnny smiled while Mel chuckled.

“All right, Miss Doris, let’s shake a leg.” Charles ushered Doris out in the hall, followed by Johnny and Mel.

Doris peeked around the corner. “He’s still in Mel’s office.”

“Let’s do this.” Charles strode confidently into the squadroom, quietly opening the door.

Johnny carried Mel out, Doris right behind them.

Carter was already out in the hall. “We can use the stairs.”

“How are we going to get out?” asked Doris.

“I know a way. C’mon.”

The five of them hurried into the stairwell. Charles frowned. “We’re bound to meet up with someone.”

”Not here. This is a stairwell that leads to a service area which our agents are unlikely to use.” 

“Can we use it to get out when we reach the ground floor?”

“If we’re lucky.”

“Luck is with us then,” Johnny said.

“Johnny…always has the right…luck.” Mel smiled despite his pain.

“Must have to evade the law all this time,” Charles snorted.

“Johnny, I can…walk.”

“You’re too slow, Purvis,” said Charles.

“I’ll stay with him while you, Doris, and Carter make you way out,” Johnny said.

“We stay together,” Carter said.

“Carter, lead them down. We’ll be…along,” said Mel, looking at his friend.

Carter squeezed his hand. “Don’t take too long.”

Mel flashed him a smile. “I won’t.”

Carter answered his smile with one of his own and he pointed with his cane. “This way.” He quickly gave directions. “Just take this stairwell down to the kitchen. It’s small because they don’t actually cook in it, just store the sandwiches and soft drinks they sell in the lobby in the icebox. There’s a dumpster in back that’ll serve as cover.”

“You’re a regular fount of information, Carter.” Johnny’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Ye, it pays to talk to the little people.”

Carter opened the door to the new stairwell, leading them down the stairs.

Back on the landing, Johnny asked, “You sure about this, Sunshine? I can carry you.”

“I know.” Mel looked at his lover. “If I need you to, I’ll tell you.”

Johnny had never loved Mel more than in that moment. He cupped the Southerner’s face. 

“Okay, honey.”

Johnny took a firm grip on Mel as they began to descend the stairs.

& & & & & &

Hoover pounded the desk. How could Melvin get away? He wanted to strangle these incompetents. The man had been handcuffed to the chair, for pity’s sakes!

Hoover stood and began pacing. His men had the building surrounded, but it could be too late. He needed to talk to White.

The Director strode out of the office and almost ran into the grizzled Texan. “Doc, where did you capture Purvis?”

“At a house on the North Side.”

“So Dillinger and his gang never returned?”

“Well, I’m not sure.”

“Didn’t you assign agents to watch the place?”

“Cowley probably did.”

“You were in charge of the investigation1” Hoover felt himself grow red in the face. “I can’t believe this incompetence!”

“Sir, we got that traitor.”

“And now he’s gone!” Hoovers hands curled into fists. “That guttersnipe Dillinger is free as a bird because of stupidity. Damn it all, White, we’ve got to get Purvis back.”

“We will, sir. This building is closed up tight.”

“They could be long gone.”

“If they are, we’ll find ‘em.”

“I hope so. So far the record hasn’t been good.”

Doc grimaced. “Purvis can’t get far. He’s too busted up.” He left the squadroom.

Hoover smiled.

  
**XVI**   


  
**O’ER THE BATTLEMENTS AND UPON THEIR STEEDS**   


  
_And so the White Knight_  
Rescued his Beloved Fair,  
And they leaped o’er  
The battlements  
And upon their steeds.  


  
_Off to the woods_  
They went,  
Laughing and triumphant  
Over the wicked Duke  
Of Deception.  


  


  
**Sir Malory Arthur  
** "The White Knight  
And His Beloved Fair"  
1926 C.E. 

“Love ya, baby.”

Mel smiled. “I know.”

“Do ya now?”

“Of course.” Mel tried to ignore the growing fire in his side. “You’re an honorable man, Mr. Dillinger.”

Johnny smiled. “The way you say my name sends shivers down my spine, Sunshine.”

Mel laughed, groaning in the next instant.

“I’d dearly love to kick those friends of yours in the nuts.”

“The ones who…questioned me…”

 _“…tortured_ you…”

“…were not my friends.”

“I should hope not, otherwise you need a better class of friends.”

Mel grunted his assent, concentrating on his progress down the stairs.

“We’ll get out of here, darlin’, I promise you that.”

“I believe you.”

Johnny smiled. “C’mon now, then.”

Mel fought down nausea from hunger and the pain. He felt dizzy as he clutched his lover’s arm.

“What is it, honey?”

“Hungry.”

Johnny fished in his greatcoat pocket and produced a Hersey bar. “Here, now. The sugar oughtta give you a jolt.”

“Jolt, huh?”

Johnny chuckled. “Yes, sweets.”

Mel devoured the chocolate, feeling marginally better. “Johnny?”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you get out of town?”

“Now, darlin’, you know I couldn’t up and leave ya.” Johnny looked at his lover. “When I came back to the safehouse my heart went down to my shoes when I saw the parlor busted up. I thought at first that the Syndicate or Nelson had gotten you.”

“No such luck.”

“Who beat on you?”

”It doesn’t matter now.”

”Sure it does.”

“Please, Johnny, I just want to get out of here.”

Johnny sighed. “All right. Finish up that chocolate. I’ll get you a whole box of ‘em when we’re done.”

“You are _such_ a romantic.”

Johnny smirked as he kissed his man.

& & & & & &

Charles listened carefully as he, Doris, and Carter hurried down the stairs. He hoped that the Bureau’s agents continued to mess up the operation in order for them to get away.

How he got involved with all this, he would have to figure out later. Maybe it was partly because of Doris, maybe it was because he disliked the way Hoover was running things. He really did not like the beatings that Mel had endured.

_Just not right, beatin’ up one of our own like that._

He did not approve of his former boss’ betrayal, but his treatment at the hands of his former colleagues had been disturbing.

_It just don’t set well with me._

Now he had committed to getting Pretty Boy Purvis and his beau out of here, and he intended to do just that.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, Carter cautiously opening the door.

The small kitchen was empty, and the three of them entered the room. Charles took a quick look out the window into the alley.

“See anybody?” Doris whispered.

”No, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.”

“Should we split up once we get outside?”

“Let’s see if anyone’s around first. You two stay in here while I check things out.”

This time Doris did not object, staying behind as Charles went out in the alley.

It was almost eerily quiet in the alley, the dumpster offering good protection. If any agent was out there, they were well-hidden. Charles kept a firm grip on his handgun wishing that he had his rifle.

Squinting out at the alley, he saw nothing but a stray cat. Cautiously he came out from behind the dumpster and walked to the end of the alley. He drew back with a quiet curse and returned to the kitchen.

“Cowley’s standing guard at the end of the alley.”

“What about the other end?” Doris asked.

“There’s a fence.” Charles eyed Carter. “You’d never make it over.”

“I don’t have to.” Carter smiled. “No one suspects I’m in on this. I’m looking for Mel, same as you.”

“What about Doris?”

“She came back for something she forgot.”

“What would be that important?”

“My purse,” Doris said.

“Okay, I’ll buy that.” Charles frowned at the stairway door. “Where are Pretty Boy and his boyfriend?”

& & & & & &

“Stop,” Mel hissed.

“You hurtin’ too much?”

Mel shook his head. “I heard something.”

Johnny frowned.

& & & & & &

“We can’t just take off without Mel and Johnny,” said Doris, biting her lip.

“We won’t.” Carter glanced out at the alley. “If we’re found inside the building, we’ll be fine.”

“Could look suspicious.” Charles fished around for his gold-plated cigarette case, pulling it out of his inside breast pocket. He offered the contents to Carter and Doris. Carter declined but Doris took a cigarette, Charles lighting it for her. She took a drag, nervously shifting from foot-to-foot.

Charles checked the alley again. “Come on, Melvin. Get you and your sweetheart down here pronto. Our luck’s getting’ thinner with every minute passin’.”

“You’re nervous, darlin’?” Doris asked with a quick smile.

“’Course I am, sweetness. In this business you know you only got so much time.”

Doris inched closer to the Texan, smiling as she took another drag. “I love seeing you in action.”

Charles grinned. “Action is my middle name, darlin’.”

“Oh, brother,” groaned Carter.

Doris laughed. “Sorry, Carter.”

“Carter, you stay here with Doris. I’m goin’ to check on our lovebirds.”

Carter and Doris smiled at each other as Charles bounded up the stairs.

& & & & & &

“So, you didn’t get far.”

Harold Reinecke’s smile was pure gloating, the pudgy man flexing his fist as the other hand held a gun.

Mel leaned against the wall, his eyes struggling to stay focused. “’Pears so,” he mumbled, trying to stay upright.

“Well, I gotcha now, pansy.” Reinecke holstered his gun. “I don’t need this to take care of you.”

Mel tried to push away from the wall but was too weak from the beatings. Reinecke raised his fist with a wolfish smile and started to aim for Mel’s ribs when Johnny suddenly jumped over the stairway railing in true Jackrabbit style. 

“Wha…?” Reinecke yelped as Johnny’s foot slammed into his stomach, hurtling him against the wall. The agent’s fedora went flying as Johnny grabbed the lapels of his cheap suit and dragged him to his feet.

Snarling, Johnny shook Reinecke. “You fat-assed bully! I knew men like you in the joint, preying on those weaker than them, or sick or hurt.” His face contorted with rage. “You beat on my man when he was handcuffed to a chair. You kept at him and at him and took real pleasure in it, didn’t you?” Johnny shook Reinecke again and suddenly punched him in the face, drawing blood, and drew back for another blow.

“Johnny!” Mel grabbed his lover’s arm. “Let’s go!”

“Not until I truss this pig up.” Johnny yanked Reinecke’s tie off.

Charles appeared at the bend of the stairway below them, keeping quiet as Johnny tied Reinecke up, stuffing a handkerchief in his mouth. He shoved him into a utility closet and locked the door.

“That won’t hold him long,” Charles said, taking one of Mel’s arms as he and Johnny helped the battered agent down the stairs.

“Be enough time for us. His hands are tied good ‘n’ tight. I’da done the feet, too, if I had another tie.”

Charles snorted. “He’ll be poundin’ on that door.”

“Let ‘im. My Sunshine and me will be long gone.”

Mel stumbled and cried out, Johnny murmuring, “It’s okay, honey. I’m gonna get those ribs wrapped and I’ve got a surprise for you when we get home.”

”Home?” Mel asked, nearly passing out from the pain.

“Sure thing. We got us a new place. All your suits and your granddaddy’s pocket watch are all there waitin’ for you.” 

“You take…good care…of me.”

“Damned right.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and burst into the kitchen, Doris quickly grinding her cigarette out under her heel as Carter said, “Still all clear.”

Johnny helped Mel sit in a chair. “What’s the plan?” he asked as he grabbed a couple of Cokes from the icebox, popping the tops off with a church key. He handed one bottle to Mel and took a healthy swig from the other one.

“There’s a fence at this end of the alley. You’ll have to go over it.” Charles said.

Johnny looked at Mel. “Can we get him over it?”

“We’ll have to.”

Mel drank thirstily, and he and Johnny left their bottles in the trash can. The group eased out into the alley, Mel blanching as he saw the height of his fence. “I can’t possibly…” he gasped.

“Sure you can, Sunshine.”

Mel swallowed. “I’ll need help.”

“Of course!’ Johnny grinned saucily, but Mel could see the worry in his eyes. Despite the throbbing in his ribs, Mel was determined to do his part.

“Okay. Let’s go,” said Charles. He dragged over a box and said to Johnny, “You first. Then you can help haul Mel over.”

Johnny nodded, cupping Mel’s face. “You trust me, Sunshine?”

Mel nodded. “I surely do.”

“Good.” Johnny kissed him, Mel melting under warm lips.

“Come on, Romeo.” Charles tapped his foot.

“Coming.” Johnny dashed to the box and started to climb up when a head poked up over the fence. “Red!”

“’Bout time you showed up, John. Things are a little hairy around her.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

Rolling his eyes, Red said, “Hey, Mel! Ready to beat it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good man.”

Johnny ran back to Mel. “C’mon, honey. I’ll boost you up.”

Mel allowed Johnny to tug him toward the box. He swallowed as he stepped up. Red was learning over the fence, ready to pull him up.

“Take it easy, Red.”

“Why?”

“There might be broken ribs.”

“Ouch.”

Mel cried out as Red pulled, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the wooden boards. Johnny and Charles boosted him up, and the world tilted crazily as Mel struggled to get over the fence while red-hot knives of pain jabbed him in the side. He felt close to passing out.

“Mel?”

The astonished voice of Sam Cowley echoed out over the alley.

Red continued pulling and Johnny and Charles kept pushing. With one final thrust, Mel was pushed into Red’s solid arms with a strangled cry.

Sam ran down the alley. “Charles, Carter, what’s going on? Doris?”

“Jus’ helpin’ out a colleague, Sam,” Charles drawled.

Sam watched as Johnny began to climb over the fence after a wink and a wave to them all. “So he came.”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t it romantic?” Doris asked, her eyes bright.

Carter laughed.

& & & & & &

On the other side of the fence, Johnny dropped lightly to the ground. “Mel?”

“He passed out.” Red gently cradled the agent.

“He needs a doctor.”

“We’ll get him one, but first let’s get outta here.” Red stood with Mel in his arms. “The car’s this way.”

“I’ll take him.”

Red transferred the unconscious man into Johnny’s arms and they hurried over to the next alley and their waiting friends.

  
**XVII**   


  
**LEMON PIE**   


  
_"Lemon pie_  
For my shy guy  
Makes me sigh  
Instead of cry."  


  


  
**Maribelle Lee  
** "Lemon Pie"  
Decca Records  
1933 C.E. 

Mel floated on cottony clouds, his mind drifting as he heard a sweet, melodic song. It was just like a happy dream.

“’You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine…’”

His eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry, then coalesced into the pleasing image of his beloved Johnny.

“Hey, there, Sunshine.” A warm hand rested on his brow. “How you feelin’?”

“I…” Mel frowned. “Why don’t I feel pain in my side?”

“Morphine is a wonderful thing, darlin’.”

“Oh.”

Johnny was comfortably ensconced in a rocking chair that he had pulled up to the bedside. He was dressed casually in brown pants and vest over a white shirt. Mel was clad in light-blue silk pajamas, his ribs tightly wrapped, and bandages were wound around his right wrist and ankle. He touched his forehead, a bandage at his temple. His eye was still swollen.

“Where are we?” Mel looked around the bedroom, seeing a maple dresser and a framed landscape on the opposite wall. A matching nightstand held a lamp, silver water pitcher and glass.

“One of our safehouses."

”Not in Chicago, I hope.”

Johnny laughed. “Nope, far away from the Windy City.”

The morphine had helped considerably with Mel’s ribs, but he still felt bruised and achy. Frowning, he asked, “Did I hear Sam’s voice in the alley?”

“You surely did.”

“He wasn’t hurt?”

“Nah. ‘Pears he was put off by your boss’ orders to beat you up, so he decided to just let us go.” Johnny rocked lazily in his chair. “You got some good friends at that Bureau. Doris came through with flyin’ colors, and how about that ol’ cowboy?” 

Mel chuckled. “I knew where Doris’ heart was, but Charles surprised me.”

“It’s good to have friends who stick by you.”

For a few minutes, the faint squeak of the rocking chair filled the quiet room, Johnny finally breaking the silence. “You hungry?”

“I could use a bite.”

Johnny left the room, returning with a slice of lemon pie and a glass of lemonade.

“Mmm, pie. And my favorite!”

“Sorry it’s not meringue.”

“I like it both ways.”

“I brought it home for you from the _Crystal Room_.”

Mel’s brown eyes were bright as he looked at his lover. “It traveled all the way from there to here?”

“Hey, I promised you I’d bring you back something.”

“Mmm, you picked a nice ‘something’,” Mel said as he ate a piece of tart lemon goodness.

Johnny sat back down in the rocking chair. “Enjoy, Sunshine. You deserve only the best.” He rocked a little faster. “Not to get beat on by low-lifes.”

Mel reached out his hand and grasped Johnny’s. “I’m all right now.”

“You were hurt because of me.”

“I made my choice, Johnny, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.” Mel squeezed his lover’s hand.

Johnny smiled and squeezed back.

Mel cut a piece of pie and offered it to Johnny, who ate the lemony goodness, sliding into a kiss.

& & & & & &

Doris smiled at the mail clerk, who handed her several legal-sized envelopes and a square brown-wrapped package, which was addressed to her. She recognized the handwriting and eagerly opened it, delighted to find a box of chocolates from _The Chocolate Shoppe_ on North Halstead. She picked up the handwritten note that was tucked away in the box’s ribbon and read…

& & & & & &

_Hi, darlin’,_

_Share this with Carter, Charles, and Sam, will you? The Sunshine of my heart and I thank you for everything._

_Love,_

_Jack_

& & & & & &

Doris smiled as she picked up the box and headed for Carter’s desk, he and Charles in animated conversation.

  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/bradygirl_12/pic/00070g7y/)   
  



End file.
